Poem II by Oishik

ঝ​ড় বয়

      ভয় হয়।

বাঁকা পথ​

       কোথায় যাব ?

খোলা আকাশ

     উড়ে যাব ॥

Don’t Raise Your Hand

My son is my best friend. We eat, pray and fight together. That day, I was dead asleep - a typical scene in any Sunday afternoon. Oishik was trying to pull me out of the bed for a game of cricket. After few failed attempts, he started blowing on my back. I was enjoying every massaging blow as if there is no point beating a dead horse. But with passing time, the intensity of blow was rising. Gradually it was becoming unbearable. Suddenly the rescuer appeared in the room from nowhere. “Rich, I told you never to raise your hand” – my wife rebuked.

Next day. I was working from home. Osihik came home from school with a very sad face. Both my wife and I were hell bent to know the reason. He said -

“Game teacher made me stand for an hour outside the class”.

“Why?”

“She asked me to raise my hands and I did not”. After a momentary silence, we all broke into laughter.