Poem: The Man Who Never Was -by Kartik Sharma

While we were wandering around our social networks we stumbled upon a friend’s poem that touched our heart. Following are his own words… hope you feel it, like we did!

“The Man Who Never Was is partly based on my life. There are certain lines in the poem where I have shown reality and what actually happened. While,  some of it is fictitious.

In my life, my mother has played a major role in my upbringing and taking care of all my needs such as my education and basic needs. While my father, was never really concerned about us. He never understood my dreams and my ambitions. Like my mother, every single parent goes through hardships that no one can make up for.

One of the main reasons why I wrote The Man Who Never Was is also because of the undying need to be loved and cared for that every woman would go through when her partner leaves her stranded with a child to look after.

People may think that I hate my father which is not true. At the same time, I don’t love him either. His presence in my life is next to an unknown but that unknown still exists somewhere in a locked corner of my soul and heart!”

The doorbell rings at 2 A.M,
I walk down the stairs and get to the door.
The man outside, looks familiar.
He’s got the looks of someone so similar.He smiles at me. A wry one so,
I’m gloomy and dazed,
‘Who is it I know?’,
‘I’ve come for Reeta!’, he replies low.
I call for Mum, and she comes down,
She looks at the man, Her face in a frown.’How are you, love?’, he blankly asks,
‘Is he OUR son?, Is he the one?’
Mum stares at him and calmly says,
‘Why again, are you here?
I assumed we were done.’The man stares at her, His eyes in tears
Mum looks at me, ‘All these years….’
Her eyes now weak, her skin so red,
‘He’s the one, I told you was dead.’
I look at him, I’m now confused.
‘Is he the one? Is he MY… MY FATHER?”Yes! My son. I am indeed,
For I left you when, you were in need,
I’ve been pardoned now, and it’s been so long.
I’m so very sorry! I mean it, son.
Forgive my sins, those treacherous ones’I look at Mum; she’s slouched on the floor,
Her lips are curled, her hands on the door.

The moments of agony rise again,
The moments from the past whirl again.
I look at him. Now my mind affirm,
I push him back, I push him out.

‘You aren’t the one. You’d never be!
For you walked away, for you ran free.
You! She trusted, you! She loved,
For your Sorry cannot get us,
The man she loved.’
Mum looks at him and sharply says,
‘It’s over you coward, the day you ran.
Away from us, away from here.
Me and Him, We held together.
Through dark-n -sun,
Through times that won.

He’s quite happy and so am I,
He’s my soul, and I’m his spine,
He’s my son, and I warmly shine.’

She stays calm, her movements so strong,
The struggle she knew, Fifteen years long.
She pushes the knob and bangs the door,
Her eyes ain’t gloomy, Not dazed anymore.

His head hung low, His eyes in shame,
The day that changed, his life so lame.
The man in the dark, turns out and leaves,
As his heart so painfully heaves.

‘Forget him, son! He wasn’t yours.
He was a memory, mine and yours.
That was a day, this day of loss.
For he’s the man who never really was.

 

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