I am standing in the assembly line. Line, I always hate. It was 7:30 in the morning, when drum starts beating and we, students, have to stand under the presence of hot sun in the big school ground where our Hand-Ball team practices everyday. I was fifth from the start in the line and twenty-second from the end in my class. So how many students are there in my class?

Sound of drum was echoing in the mind as fast as our Head Boy was moving his hands. The scene couldn’t have been worse, as boys and girls were standing in separate lines. But I could see a girl, whom secretly I like. Her hair shines in my eyes. I didn’t want to miss a single glimpse of her. But when it was ordered to shut your eyes and start the prayer, my heart was never into prayer. I didn’t remember who God is? Why am Standing here?

Then I, secretly, opened my right eye to see her glimpse, but all I could find was our P.T. teacher in front of me. Before I could close my eye again, I felt a strong vibration on my left cheek. Yes, teacher’s hand was heavy.

I got punishment for opening the eye, but not for forgetting my religion. Not for the prayer without the heart.