پروین شاکر کی شوہر سے طلاق نے ان کو مایوسی کے اندھیروں میں دھکیل دیا تھا ان کی بیٹے سے محبت میں ان کی جاہ پناہ بھی تھی جس میں وہ ماضی کو دفن کر رہی تھیں - ایک خط ہے جو انہوں نے اپنے بیٹے کو لکھا ۔
My son, this curse is your fate too. In a fathers’ world you too, one day, must pay a heavy price for being known by your mother, though your eyes’ color, your brow’s expanse, and all the curves your lips create come from the man who shared with me in your birth, yet alone gives you significance in the eyes of the law-givers. But the tree that nurtured you three seasons must claim one season as its own, to comb the stars, turn thoughts into perfumes, make poems leapfrog your ancestors’ walls . . . […] a season that Mira couldn’t send away, nor could Sappho. Now it must be this family’s fate that you should frequently feel abashed before your playmates, and that your father must grin and bear it among his friends. The name on the doorbell means nothing; the world knows you by one name alone
My son,
this curse is your fate too.
In a fathers’ world you too, one day,
must pay a heavy price
for being known by your mother,
though your eyes’ color, your brow’s
expanse,
and all the curves your lips create
come from the man
who shared with me in your birth,
yet alone gives you significance
in the eyes of the law-givers.
But the tree that nurtured you three
seasons
must claim one season as its own,
to comb the stars, turn thoughts into
perfumes,
make poems leapfrog your ancestors’ walls . . . […]
a season that Mira couldn’t send away,
nor could Sappho.
Now it must be this family’s fate
that you should frequently feel abashed
before your playmates, and that your
father
must grin and bear it among his friends.
The name on the doorbell means
nothing;
the world knows you by one name
alone