My Son, A Modern Son

My son A modern son Made for ganja, bhang and daru, A ganjaman, a bhangman, a daruman, A drunkard out of senses Loitering and falling, Staggering and picking unnecessary brawls, A bottleman living for bottles Passing time in enjoyment, Partying and revelling Taking not a word, hearing it not, Looking ouwardly a good boy, But a bad boy from his within, So rotten and dirty A strange fellow, A debauch and dullard, With nothing in mind He going after ads and the admen, New things, Fashion and designing, Changing mobile phone sets frequently, Breaking them for to get new Under the petext of, Giving the stunts with his bikes, Speeding like Romeo With the sticker of Chinese dragon On his bike headlight cover Smoking, drinking and quarrelling in intoxication, Inebriation unmindful of his family matters, Father, mother, sister Coming house late into the night Often drunk awfully Unable to stand on his feet Just hanging onto from the steering of his car, A young man after the serials He is a fan of Police File, Crime Diary, Wanting to be a villain, Repenting after the crime A juvenile delinquent So full of vice and moral degradation Without any character or personality, A great liar, he is everything And what can he not do With his fashion gurus in the heart With a crow-cut hair, jewellery stud On one ear lobe Instructing from there? On seeing him, exclaim I, What a criminal is he, my God, What a creation of mine or Yours, Which but I do not know, What a boy have I given birth to Or a creation of my missus Who has fashioned him As per her wishes, Hearing her own family's talks Which is but an interference into someone's Personal and private matters, But God, as You are Saviour and Destroyer as well, Save me, save me From this bad boy Putting a black spot On the forehead of the clan!