Pleasant are the thoughts that give pleasure

Like the thought that my grandson can see

My emotions, my fears, and my anxieties

The other day, I met a young boy

Around seventeen, looking for a book

The book was available at the bookshop

But the boy won't buy it; available was only the hardcover

The boy would rather wait for the softcover

I did not know what the book was all about

But I wanted to buy the book for the boy

The boy seemed adaptable to me

Only the adaptable survive in the strong winds of time

In the boy I saw the reflections of my grandson

I saw my grandson taking me to a bookshop, holding my hand

The other day, reminiscing Sonar Kella, I thought of my grandson

The film I have seen many a times

I wished my grandson to enjoy the film

As keenly as his Thamma, Baba and Pishi did

I imagined watching Postmaster

In my imagination, I saw my grandson telling me

Dadu, you look so much like postmaster dadu

My mind goes back to the day my grandson was born

That day I could feel the warmth of the rising sun