Docile Man

Oh! Mother,

time sprints

and in the hustle-bustle,

I have become another

that

you have never nurtured.

Yes, Oh! My mother,

change yourself

and change me.

Though white beard

has come

to prove my maturity,

it has neither made me

shrewd or innocent.

Yes, Oh! Mother,

come like Yashoda,

punish me

with a cane of love

and then cocoon me;

Twisting my ear again,

teach the jargon of life,

make me

a docile man again,

make me

a docile man again.