/ Stories

A bitter sweet child pie

Bang!!! Bang!!! Someone was kicking at the door, some loud shout followed which was slowly getting louder and that was enough to bring me down to earth from that appeasing world of sleep. This is inhumane, I thought with an eye opened and desperately searching for a watch or cell phone to get an idea about how late am I been sleeping? It’s “only” 9 am, not that late to be true. I have dropped myself from the bed to open up the doors only to discover my grandfather was doing his morning raga on me. This zombie walk with my eyes yet to open takes me to my washroom. The anger inside me would never equal anything even close to what it is to be kicked by someone on a holiday at 9 am and the ancient person, who does it, has no damage whatsoever if only for once in a week I sleep a little bit longer than my usual routine allowed me to.

I keep yawning for the rest of my day. Could the day start any worse than this?I could never express how annoyed I used to be on my grandfather every time he did that to me. Well, after all I got to respect him no matter what he does. It was only the playful moments while I used to remind him indirectly- how it feels to him if I burst a bomb while he is sleeping. He used to laugh on me and advised-“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise!”

It was even more annoying to digest his loud laugh because I barely cared about health, wealth and wisdom at that age. I have struggled to figure out how come morning would bring me wealth if for the rest of the day I keep yawning! I then tried to make him understand with my persuasive tone- “Dadu, you could at least knock me a little less hard and the use of your legs could be minimized. You tend to give me a heart attack.” He laughs even more only to see my eye brows squeezed in disbelief.He was not as annoying as much he embarrassed us all while releasing the gas with a weird sound which could make anybody laugh at packed hall room or in a party. Except for me because right after the sound, he would point his finger towards me and start yelling for the sin he has just committed.Something that brings you pain and discomfort today, someday will become the reason to laugh and cherish.

Now he is no more and I realize what he was for me. I still laugh at my solitary whenever I remember him. We had a great time together and I pray to the almighty for granting him peace. Perhaps he wanted to see a reflection of himself in me and may be now he has nobody to play with. Someday I’ll cross over the line and see you on the other side and we will be laughing together for one more time.

[Written on October 14, 2011]

Shopnil Mahmud

Shopnil Mahmud

A software engineer with avid interest on any form of arts and philosophy. Likes to write codes for a living and poetry for the soul. Currently residing in Toronto, originally from Bangladesh.

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