From the heart of a sailor

CHILD... IS THE MAN
I see a little child get up each day and look
at a calender on the wall
He then turns and asks his mother
"Mummy what is the day today"
"and what is the month..?"
She says "Its the second day of May"
Ah May! he says, His eyes light up with hope
and beaming with smile he says
My Papa will come back today.
No, says his mother,
May is very long my dear
and it may be longer this year
He knows nothing about the months and dates
but is beginning to feel the pain
that comes with the wait.
He becomes sad and begins to cry
Asking his mother why ,she told him a lie
" May aa gaya hai ,phir papa kyon nahin aaye"
"Aap unhein phone kyon nahin kar ke bulate"
Mere papa ghar kyon nahin aate"
( Hindi text means...
The may has come, then why my father hasn't?
Why don't you ring up and call him home..
Why doesn't my father come home?)

She draws him closer caresses his hair
and kisses his cheek and promises to get him a toy.
She hides her own pain
but there in the corner of her eyes appears
A tiny comforting tear.
She lifts the boy to her lap and begins to play
with him,blocking all thoughts of days and weeks
which could make her feel weak
in front of her child .,a small world of her creation.
And drives the tears away
by sheer force of her determination.

She can’t tell him that his father
has gone so far away
to fetch home a bright tommorrow
And in the endless wait for her mate.
Her todays are becoming yesterdays.
She too has dreams but she knows
How difficult it is to live with those.
She can’t tell him the pain they bring
Every time when the telephone rings
She wishes he may not say but he does
Honey! there is going to be some delay
He misses them all and that.. he loves
them very much
For ever since he’s gone.
She’s always slept with the kid... but’s been alone
And there has been an occassional phone
from him ,to comfort her and assure
but she indeed is in need of his touch and more.
He talks to the boys and weaves
some dreams and their eyes light up with joy
Oh! If her world too could be the world of toys.
But it is not. Wait alone is her lot
Some memories sweet, and a letters few.
Saying that he loves her too.
Yes that’s all what she’s got
To give her a company through the nights
Dark ,scary and cold, raising fears
when she wants to hide in his embrace
and whisper into to his ears ... Oh dear
Make love to me until the day lights...

Sometimes she discovers her child
reading those letters too.
Looking for the promises his father has made
Assuring his self as his Pa is getting delayed
in coming back home from the ship
He can’t read but he knows there are
some words that hold the promises
his mum had told, his papa has made
He then delicately folds the letter and keeps
weeps sometimes rolls a tear or two.
Doesn’t really know what he can do
to see his father home.

She knows that reading the letters again
can do nothing to mitigate the pain
Yet she picks up one and reads
There gather in her eyes some beads
and roll downs as she wonders
Are these the pearls young girls dream for?

Beyond the mist in my eyes forms,
what looks like a human face
that I’ve never seen
Must be Dana’s (the typist) or is it some machine ?
I strain to read again
through misty eyes the message that lies on my table

"Unable to arrange relief this port. Request continue until next port"

Wondering whether I am able, unable or capable
of sailing until the next port.
Should I hide my
emotions and say "yes" somehow
Or "no" I want to go home now.
I am unable to decide.
I lie on my bed and thoughts file pass by
I see a child, a boy, a man
Looking at me and asking...not who, but what am I?
I look away as I fail to say a word
and I know in my heart I’ll have to sail and stay onboard
Hiding in me a child, a boy, I should be a man
I should feign a smile and say ....Yes I can
(On hearing about delay in relief from a ship)