School Times
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 make me 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
Bang the polished face of the bell
And I should run to my grandpa
And sit on his lap to watch him rub
Tobacco on his palm
With stone hard forefinger;
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 the treacherous rain.
Bu şiiri puanla
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