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