Author: Pritisha
Father said,
“Men don’t cry.”
I wiped my weeping eyes
In an attempt to tear
My tear glands.
Father said,
“Emotions are shades of pink
That we mustn’t harbour
Even if we are feeling
As blue as the blue baby suit worn by a new-born son.”
Father said,
“You have to be the head
And not the toe
Because it is the end of you.”
Father said,
“You are the protector
And protectors don’t flinch at any pain.
You are the protector but not the caretaker,
Caretaking is the dance we cannot perform.
Father said,
“You are the housebuilder
But never the house maker
For those are the bricks and cement
We mustn’t use to construct.”
Father said,
“Men can fight
Even the most daunting monster,
No one would ever take advantage of you,
We are strong enough to fight.”
Father said,
“You won’t be considered man enough
If you don’t follow the rules,
For we are the dolls,
Dancing to the tunes of society
And these are the only dolls
Which don’t emasculate us.”
I told father
I will cry
Out of pity for you
And for the petty society.”
Father gave me a long stare
Before saying,
“Son, I think I will cry with you too.”
