It is teenhood for him and I have to help him find an equilibrium with
the pasage of time. And all I do is draw lines and then look at them and
blur them and redraw them. Lines of measured freedom. He at times looks
at me the way a bird glances and nips its wings after a furious
struggle in the urge to break free from the cage.
Fluttering his strong defiant wings against
its walls in the desire of breaking free but freedom I give him in
measured quantities for fear of the unknown. I know, often freedom takes
them to such skies and to such places that the safe return back home
from there becomes impossible.
I know he would have his share of experience before he finds an equilibrium.
Though he has come from me, I find him very different from me. When I
see in him the positives that I didn't have, it calms me that he won't
commit those mistakes that I made. When I see those negatives in him
which I don't have, I only ask for resilience in him which I had.
I expect him to succeed where I had erred;
to forgo where I had endured;
to understand where I had ignored;
to be vigilant where I was careless;
to love where I had denied.
to protest where I had surrendered.
Teen-hood leaves with some scars but also imparts the experience to
erase them. Only time will tell if the experience he gains is enough to
wipe out those scars. Till then we search equilibrium which is not in
our hands.
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