Image by Michal Jarmoluk from Pixabay 

I was crying holding my knee sitting in a pool of mud…

My dad came running to me and asked, “What happened beta??”

I said while crying, “I fell down in this mud papa. My knee is bleeding.”

My father had a frown on his face immediately as he heard me. He replied sternly, “Come on stand up like a man quickly. Boys don’t cry seeing these petty scratches Boys are made to play in the mud. They are rough and tough.” I bowed my head down in disappointment, got up, walked with the injured knee seeing other boys leaning on their father’s shoulders around me, and thought, “Why can’t boys cry? Are they emotionless?”

“Yay! I got my new cycle papa.” My dad patted my shoulder and said, “Learn to ride it by yourself. No matter how many times you fall, don’t give up. You are a big boy now.” I passed a simple smile and went out to ride it. My cycle suddenly went out of balance and I fell down with a thud. I screamed, “Aaahhhh…Papa…” I was trying hard to get up but all in vain as that heavy cycle was over me. A lone tear escaped my eye. Just then dad came out and helped me stand. He saw the tear and said, “You started crying out of this little pain. You are a big man now. Men don’t cry. They are the pillar of the house. They are born to rule. Stop crying like girls. If you will be scared of these small-small scratches then how will you fight from the big injuries that the world gives you and still continue to live life in the future." I yet again bowed my head down in disappointment and thought, “Can I never become my dad’s ideal son? Will I always be a disappointment for him? Why can’t men cry? Are they emotionless?”

My granny passed away today due to her old age. I was always her little boy. She loved me like no one else ever did. I was crying my heart out seeing her for the very last time when my dad kept his hand on my shoulder and said, “When will you be able to become a real man? Men don't cry in such hard times. Rather they handle everyone else like a strong pillar. They are a support to the family.” Again the same disappointment hit me. Again the same question entered my mind, “Why can’t men cry? Are they emotionless?”

No! No! No! I would cry whenever it becomes way too much to handle. I would not shy away from showing my emotions. I would express it openly. I can’t hide it beneath a rough poker face. I am a normal human being. Why can’t people’s thinking change? Crying is an emotion and not someone’s copyrighted property. My mother never differentiated between my sister and me. She always taught me to express myself and not struggle alone by suppressing things. Men can cry. They have emotions.

.    .    .