Out of dread for those
Serious eyes, bold beards
Heavy moustaches and
The dictating voices-
Every boy, who hides
Behind his mother's saree
Is revolutionary.
Feeling his mother's grief
In the feeble variations of
Taste of daal- very resolute
To change the precedent-
Wanting to throw stones
At the village altars and
Clean shave before even
Adolescence hits hard.
Then as the the fierce
Command of manhood
Takes over his face,
Mind and groin-
And by the time he brings
Himself a wife-
Yelling at her from the bathroom
For not giving him Chaddi
And banyan in time-
His father and grandpa
Smile from the mirror
In total approval of the
Man, he has become.
While his kid in the hall hides
Himself in the saree of
This woman who had just
Become his mother.