School Days
A
Anil Kumar Panda
0
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I have long left the classroom
Upon the cold floor of which
I have rubbed my buttocks;
It was my turn to clean.
I had been horrified as
The bleary- eyed teacher pulled
My hair to recognize the faces
Crawling on the flat darkness
Of the board swinging on the wall;
I wished it should rain;
The dilapidated roof should leak;
And the pot bellied peon should
Beat the polished face of the bell;
And I should run to my grandpa
And sit on his lap to watch him rub
Tobacco and wet lime on his palm
With stone hard thumb;
And of course to my beautiful mother
Flitting from room to room
Hidden under the printed plaits
Of her hand-woven saree;
A thought troubling her unripe brain;
What her son would be doing
In school in this treacherous rain.
Bu şiiri puanla
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