Pradip Chattopadhyay (28.01.1961 / Kolkata)
In the Classroom
In the glass hours of morning
I am back in the lecture hall
With my uniform, bag and everything
Amid the class teacher’s frenzied roll call.
Roll no.9 she shouts out
I’m here ma’am no doubt
Me she gives a grim look
I hide my face in a book.
She rises with duster and chalk
I force on myself a silence
Pretending to hear her talk
Holding onto my brittle patience.
She goes on and on and on
Her babbles pouring like rain
Soon my defenses are all gone
Staying awake becomes a burden.
I get away into my dreamland
Far from the stiffness of rules
Where I dance holding the fairy’s hand
And there are no syllabus and schools.
My dream is so cute and cool
A freedom of endless peace
Till my ears feel the stinging pull
You’re sleeping? Shouts the Miss!
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