I’m still waiting, my son

I carried you in my womb; I nursed you on my bosom

I nurtured you, I tended to you and I cared for you.

You grew to be a strapping youth of kind heart & reason

You made my heart swell with pride and joy, long due.

 

Then you went off to the army, to serve the nation

And I was left behind my child to pray and wait alone.

I feared for you even though I knew it was your vocation

I waited for you to come back home, say you were done.

 

But, you my valorous child did what was by fate bidden.

You forsake your own safety, like you father and fought.

And just like the wave of bravery your father had ridden,

You laid down your life, to the nation laurels you bought.

 

Now I am left alone, I’m still waiting for you to come,

Even though I know that you have gone to meet father.

I still yearn for you; crave to hear you call me Mum,

Even though I know you have departed to a world another..

 


Image – Arthur Humeau via unsplash

 

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About Sonal Singh

An author, storyteller, and full-time observer of life’s glorious absurdities. I write humour-laced stories where chaos wears fluffy fur, emotions arrive uninvited, and middle-class Indian households become ecosystems of drama, love, and unsolicited advice. Armed with sarcasm, caffeine, and alarming emotional attachment to stray creatures, I believe compassion is less of a virtue and more of a lifestyle disorder. One that I embrace. When I’m not writing, I’m usually busy running a full-time HR consultancy business, rescuing animals, or trying to maintain dignity while being emotionally manipulated by my pets. Through my literary work, I try to blend humour with heart, celebrating the messy coexistence of humans and non-humans in modern urban India.

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