A poignant and evocative poem about the opposite worlds of father and son, by Dr. Jernail. A Different Truths exclusive.

Dedicated to all those Wordsmiths for whom passion for poetry and literature has always outweighed their love for material possessions.

The matter of fact son deviated
from the father’s ways, and
often complained:
“Instead of fifty books,
it would have been better to own
fifty acres of land.”

You have been worldly unwise,
and failed
in Mission Mammon.

He would himself never touch books
of philosophy or even literature
and would try his best
in the real estate.

And father never tried to reform the pattern
of his son’s thinking.
People wanted to be doctors,
and civil servants,
Was it to serve humanity?

Bucks ruled human imagination.
People were crying
Canada, UK, New Zealand,
In lure after money, easy or uneasy.

At last the father fell ill, and was taken
to Delhi.
Deposit one lakh rupees.
The son was looking here and there.

He had money. But it was meant
for his luxury.
Not for his father’s treatment.

I told you why you waste your time on books
Now, where is money?
Give me an FD which I can get encashed.

The father asked him
to bring from his almirah a packet
on which
an address was mentioned.
“Take it to that man.”

He was old, seasoned, and smoking.
He appeared to be someone
who had money but lacked its value.

On getting the packet, the man went inside.
He found the text of a novel.
His own name inscribed on it as author.

He looked at the novel.
He had always wanted to write a wonderful book.
And he had often said to the poet:
I wish I could write like you.

“Give me your novel, and I will pay you
one lakh rupees”
he had told the poet.

He went to a chest and took out
one lakh rupees.
And, handed over to the son.

“Take this money. It is one lakh.
But I return this book also.
I feel he must be in great need.
Otherwise who sells his own offspring?”

©Dr. Jernail Singh Anand

 Photo from the Internet