Today is Mother’s Day
And ceremoniously
Each and every lad
Each and every mate
Will congratulate
And thank thee.
I would have too,
Just like the past 18 summers
Come forth as I always did
To present thee
A letter of Glory
To appreciate your womanly heart
In maternal spirits befit.
It’s not that I don’t love you;
I do praise you
For what you have always did
But I am a man
It’s my habit
I’ll ask sugar tongued
Of your merit
After you are done with the dishes
Of the celebratory feast
Which you yourself created
Out of the graceful flatteries
We today in your honour weaved.
I’ll ask thee
To inherit
Upon me something
That might make your brow knit
A career…. well designed for…. your girl
I beg thee!
Don’t let your anger spit!
I have of late decided
To become a mother;
A Father’s too tough for me.
Maternity blossoms my spirit!
I won’t ask thee to teach me
All I seek is a reflection of thee
To settle in me
For they say, I possess it not, genetic
Assure my sinew
That my babes will cry to me
For their joy to renew
Even if my scold
That sorrow did afflict;
An art of yours
That impresses me every moment.
Also, I need ‘your’ sanction
For me to enter ‘your’ kitchen
Designed by ‘your’ husband, the architect.
As
The vessels rattle
When my image shines on them,
The stove fire flickers
When my shadow falls on it
Poor things of domestic use
Are not used to seeing men without chef hats!
I know I am being mean
But you see, I’ve been taught to direct
And it’s not unjust, I deem
To celebrate this day
If a mother we beget.
にला Baਣਾ