Thursday, December 25, 2008

An unsuspecting terrorist

A mad, mad scientist
My privileged guest

I gave him a soft bed
With frilly covers
In a cozy room
Where he would be
I even
Cooked for him
His favorite meals
Bhindi, Paratha, Biryanis.
Kulfis and Falooda

Little did I know
He was conducting
His stupid experiments
In his hush-hush room
Adjacent to mine,Until


I heard a loud blast
Of his first
Successful research
Through my charred door

Monday, December 08, 2008

Wah! Taj?

One Taj built as an icon of love
Other Taj destroyed by hate and rage
Taj, the crown of pride
Will gild my skull some day
When I learn to shoot the sleaze
And bend the spine of the crime

Friday, November 28, 2008

You can rot in Hell!

You keep a gun on weak shoulders
And shoot
Do you gloat when you see the innocent blood?
I know not what you accomplish
By spreading your hate
You think you have brains
To mastermind a perfect plot
But, you are a total failure
A waste product
You could have used your brain, instead
To upgrade the prosperity of your men
Hate for hate
Eye for an eye
Has made you blind
To see or feel the real compassion
You are drowned in deep abyss of annihilation
There is no hope for you
Alas! You will never know a real love
Nor the sparkles of happiness
How can you?
Soiled is your soul
In muck of dark violence
It is guilt that will haunt you
And you will never understand the true
Joys of smile
Never ever!

Saturday, November 08, 2008

A memorable trip to Lagos

For the fourteenth time I unzipped my hand bag and emptied its contents on the bed. Lipsticks, small perfume spray, foldable hair brush, crushed lottery tickets, mouth fresheners, scribble pad, ball pen; everything was there, except my wallet. My wallet had everything that was important to me on this holiday to Lagos, credit cards and cash, everything. Damn!

I wiped off the silly tears that found their way down my warm cheeks and bracing myself, I sat cross legged on my bed. I heard my cousin’s footsteps approaching my room. I quickly put back all the contents back into my handbag, dumped it into my suitcase and straighten up.

“Come, we are waiting for you, dinner is ready” she said

I followed her to the dining room to join the rest of the family. It was a great day of family reunion and everybody had a story to tell. My family and my cousins were all talking simultaneously, sharing jokes and anecdotes, and filling the room with their hearty laughter. There was great variety of food on the table, including my favorite kheema-Pav, which would have released squeals of joy on any other normal days. But, I was quiet and took small helpings. While I munched on food, my mind drifted back to my activities during last twenty four hours, trying to recollect and focus on events when I must have been too careless to keep my purse within the robber’s reach. Luckily for me, I had already given my share of expenses for transport, lodging and boarding to one of my cousins, who handled the accounts during our trip. If ever I would need money, it would be only if I wanted to shop. I had never ever begged, nor borrowed or nor stolen any money all my life, but I contemplated in trying at least one option. Was stealing easier than begging, or was begging easier than borrowing?

“Are you okay?” said my cousin, and suddenly there was silence in the room and everybody was staring at me.

“I am tired” I said

“Oh, it must be jet-lag” said my aunt as I excused myself and went back to my room.

Late that afternoon, my aunt entered my room and slipped fifty thousand notes in Naira into my palm, telling me to use the money till I get time to go to the bank to exchange my dollars. I wanted to tell her that I had no dollars in my hand bag, and that I had been ripped off all my cash and credit cards, but I was hesitant to tell her the truth and admit my carelessness.

Secretly, I called my bank to freeze my credit cards.

For next four days, we went to the city, exploring the places of interest, visiting malls and restaurants but I did not shop at all. Every time, my cousins suggested that I do some shopping, I complained of things being too over-priced, and told them I could get the same stuff in my own town at a better rate. There were many fashion stores, that displayed beautiful designs, seducing me, there were handicraft stores that mocked me with their beautiful souvenirs, but I curbed my desires to shop and would pretend that they were all too flashy and so un’fashionable’.

At the end of my trip, I handed fifty thousand notes in Naira back to my aunt, telling her that I didn’t need to change my dollars, because I could not find anything of interest to buy, explaining the futility of buying the unnecessary things and paying for over-weight luggage at the customs.

Two days after I reached back home, I wrote a thank you note to my Aunt.

Dear Aunty Sunita,
I am so glad to have visited you. I was impressed by your huge house and your hospitality. Twenty of us, squeezing into the best corner, all under one roof was sheer fun that still brings smile to my face! Really! Thank you so much for giving us such a good time and making it a memorable trip. It was very kind of you to offer me the money till I found time to go to bank. However, I have confession to make. I am sorry that I did not have courage to tell you the truth. I had no money in my handbag during my stay in your town as I had lost all my money due to my carelessness. I did not want to embarrass my cousins by voicing my suspect; I had decided to keep silent and not to shop instead.

But, nevertheless, I did have a very good time. Thank you so much for being such a good hostess.

Hope you will visit me soon.

I received an instant reply

Dearest Smriti
Thank you so much for visiting me and I enjoyed as well! I am missing all of you now. I am pleased that you did’nt voice your suspicion and spoil the show. I have confession to make too. I did see one of your cousins remove the wallet from your handbag but I didn’t have much courage to confront her. Don’t ask me - who? Some things are best left unsaid. I am sure you did not miss the shopping much. There will always be a next time… can shop then……

Please visit me again…soon
Take care
Your aunt

I felt overwhelmed and tears welled up in my eyes, tears of love for my aunt who was equally a coward, just like me.

Sunday, November 02, 2008

55 words greeting

Across the seven seas, in a strange land, away from my motherland
I long for brilliance of the lights, festive sweets and loud, smoky nights
I celebrate Diwali quietly here, with out any sparkle in my eyes
Do you hear me? My dearest families and my friends
My wishes are reaching towards your sweet smiles.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Long Time No See No Joy On This Street

Long time no see that kid called Sam
Missed, are cheeks dimpled and thick brown hair

Here was his home of beautiful brownstones
Lined with hedges of green and purple tones

The lively curvy lanes, till the end of this street
Had Sam and his friends happily share their dreams

From dawn to dusk, they passed their time
Running, sprinting behind fluttering butterflies

Sam´s favourite spot, hidden beneath that Banyan tree
Where he would people-watch, cross-legged, relaxed

Smiling and twinkling stars humoured him a lot
Till the day, he heard a loud, shattering blast

Two men on bike dropped a lethal plastic purse
Sam went shouting,¨Uncle, come back! You have left your pouch.¨

Stunned, he was, by the bright light in his eyes
His skull and his muscles, crumbled and sliced

His limbs went flying over that Banyan tree
Fleshy mince crowned hedges like inflated beads

Lively, curvy lanes were charred, completely browned
Friends of Sam were nowhere to be found.

Long time no see no soul on this street
Just a quivering blind woman under that Banyan tree

She caresses the shredded, soiled shirt of Sam
That had covered comforting shoulders and lent her a hand

Long time no see no peace on this street
Just a blanket of red blood and deserted beneath

Long time no see no smile on any face
Just helpless innocent brothers killed by
Cruel, irrational and the disgraced

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Dating is not for me

I would love to meet you
But I am afraid
Of your rejection
Or your stares
Or your surprises
You might discover
When you see me
I do not qualify the
Image in your mind

It is not my fault
If you drew the picture of me
In your soul
Reading my thoughts
My opinions
My words
From your virtual sight

I never said
I am pretty
Nor did I ever
Discuss my age
You adored my rambling
My wit
My style
Imagining a God
With feminine delight

Damn you
And your desires
To see the skeleton of me
I truly cannot match
The fabric
Nor colours
Nor nirvana
Of your wayward mind

I want to be away from
Your binary wildest dreams
You sit at your own desk
And I will, at mine
We can still drink coffee
And chat online
We can carve out poetry
From my lines

But let me be me
My true me and me
I truly cannot meet you,
This evening

Monday, September 22, 2008

Dreaming on my soft bed

Each night I remind myself to watch my dreams carefully, but each morning, they just float away from my stream of thoughts. There are good dream and bad dreams but I can’t remember them at all, just a new day with clean slate waiting for a new paint stroke. I feel refreshed and cheerful as I walk away from my soft bed.

There are dreams of the adventures that I am physically too weak to take. There is surfing on high seas, there is Para-gliding under strong winds, I climb huge mountains, trekking through the rough roads. Up in the mountains I try balancing act and suddenly the cord snaps and I fall down on my soft bed

Sometimes I party crash into the Bollywood world; I drink the free booze and gulp the food with smile. A director finds me attractive and invites me to casting couch, ten large hands grope my body and I perspire, I shout and squirm and cry for help, and then I am relieved when I find myself in my soft bed

Then there are dreams of my loved one, whom I have not met for long, some are lost and some are just, forever gone. They visit me in my dreams and we share a song. There is laughter, cheers, joys, happiness and peace and I wake up in the morning with the smile in my eyes, saving my dreams under pillows of my soft bed

I have seen my grandfather’s dentures, up on sale, all the ladies in my society have long, curly nails, and there is a man in his underwear talking to his roses, saying a tearful goodbye to his broken weeds. The smell of daffodils creeps into my dream, when I open my eyes, I see flowers beside my soft bed.

I remove the parasitic nodes and other junk from my mind, making connections in a safe place from this worldly grind, although some complete the patterns of emotional expectations and some do lower my awful stress, but I am disassociated from my conscious state, lying still and breathing evenly in my soft bed.

I have sought meaning in dreams or divination through dreams. Dreams have history, both as a subject of conjecture and as a source of inspiration. It is physiologically a response to a neural process, psychologically, it is a reflection of the subconscious, but spiritually, I feel my Lord’s presence on my soft bed

I have a déjà vu when my dream escapes, to show me the familiarity of the people I have never ever met, mysteriously reminding me of the situation or place, that in my sub conscious mind I had it suppressed. I am planning to pre- program my next beauty sleep, and hoping to remember from start to the end, I will watch it carefully, forward and rewind and will memorize my dreams on my soft bed.

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Jai Ganesha!

In a long queue for a glimpse
Of Great Lord Ganesha,
There are thousands of people
Surrounding me
The positive vibrations and
Quest for blessing
Is making all people
Pray silently.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Godawful poems 29

A final entry on this last day with Acrostic, and Haiku

Gosh! During the last fort night
Oh my! I have blogged bad verse
Darn! In a real contest
Actually, I dare not invest
With this godawful
Fortnight, I could easily test
Untrue or topical or
Latest news
For you, it might be jest
Oh! But if you visit my blog
Really, you must, I suggest
Newer are my views
In twenty eight best
Green Poems that were
Highly awful test
Truly I warn that you cannot detest

Really speaking
It was fun reading all awful
Poems, now Rest In Peace

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Godawful Poetry - 28

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 28

Aah! That Godawfool fortnight

During this godawfool fortnight
I have sat under this godawful torchlight
Eating this godawful Samosa
That I normally have at every godawfool meet-aah
With that godawful alcohol
That is served with those godawful cola
After those godawfool burbs
I head towards those godawfool suburbs
I had gone there in that godawful train
And was stuck in that godawful rain
I would go there every godawful season
Even though I had no godawfool reason
During one of those godawfool trips
I had almost lost my godawful grips
I wore that godawful toupee
And went for that godawfool endoscopy
I thought I was godawful clever
Until I met more godawfool braver
He was there on that godawful blog
Blogging about his godawfool dog
Thats when I developed that godawful rash
And I had to make quick godawful dash
Even though it looked like godawful zit
This is no godawfool tit
I stopped caring about that godawful license
I didn’t want to be under any godawfool influence
I would have landed in that godawfool hell
Had I not rung that timely godawful bell
Surrounded by those so many godawfool grinners
I elected myself as godawfool winner
Cause, though all were godawfool dummy
I guess, mine´s was most godawfool funny

Friday, August 29, 2008

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 27

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

Learn to speak Minglish Bai
# 27

Why don’t you just speak Minglish, Bai
And change your shop hoardings and keep quiet
Just leave the bakwas there and take your side

Can’t you see the borders of my suburb line
Which is extended up to Dharavi height
Why don’t you just speak Minglish Bai

If you cannot learn from lengua guide
Then keep a tutor who is bright
Just leave the bakwas there and take your side

You say it´ s the lifestyles of Bandra you like
Then people of Bandra for you will be delight
Why don’t you just speak Minglish Bai

You will be deported if you strike
Or if you identify global logos/brands by their lights
Just leave the bakwas there and take your side

Khar, Andheri, Chinchpokli, Vikroli, Kurla, Sanpada
They all are boring and completely outside,
Why don’t you just speak Minglish Bai
Just leave the bakwas there and take your side

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Godawful Poetry - 26

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August


Face Book
I agree, I am logging night and day on this facebook
So what? You don’t have to pay if I am on this facebook

What goes of yours if I see my friends and
Bhai logs´ fotoos everyday on this facebook

I will even send them haftas and suparis with coupons
That normally fade away on this facebook

Sometimes I am reading and writing for them notes and
Merrily joking away on this facebook

I will poke them; give them pyar ki japki, I will nudge them
Even if I have nothing to say on this facebook

Scrabble, Rummy, Matka and quiz
Oh! The many more games that we play on this facebook

With such good pastime pushpee is thrilled
And you better Gap Bas on this facebook

Samja kya?


We see, you and I
Through this private eye
Being no more shy
Under this new dye

Technorati Profile

Nursery Rhymes

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August


Little fat Ganpat
Was learning Marathi alphabets
Mixing his ayes with kays
There came a Mumbai manoos
Near him, he did ghoos, ghoos
Gave him jhadka and told him
He was gay

# 24

Santa, Banta
Went to Delhi
To meet Mona Ghandhi
She couldn’t explain to them
The rules of RTI
Instead served them
Italian macaroni
La la la la la la la
Mona, Sona, all so funney

# 25

Jack and Hill
Went up the hill
To meet George Khush
And Clinton Mill
But they met Osama
He thought it was fantasma
And Jill broke silence with
Her loud laughter

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 22

I saw your post on forum today
I think I understand how you mean to play
There is something in the words you say
It changes the curvatures of my face

And it took time for me to know
What you tried to write so hard to show
It’s those silly phrases that you used
They changed all the gears of my face

After Google searching high and low
It finally hit my belt below
The cliché that you have used
Makes me kneel down on the floor

Why do you write so?
Why do you rhyme so?
You know you have no talent
Why do you have to put up such show?

Don’t torture me like this
Don’t behave like Krish
I can do without your love poems
If only you could know

Monday, August 25, 2008

My Awful Dog

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August


I am under self imposed curfew, my right hand is dressed
In pure white, tight garment and I am too depressed
I wave my hand to my dog, but he too, is not impressed
I tell him, it´s a beef bone, he says, but it´s not even fresh
Anyways, he is too full, having eaten a chicken breast
Now, too sleepy and not in mood to hear my sickly jest
If I trouble him too much, he might become a perfect pest
Then his barking will continue until I lose my fixed address
The neighbours might sue me for stealing their beauty rest
They will accuse me blindly and invent reasons to harass
I will not be able to pacify them even if I stoop to caress
The law suit will go on for years and make me very aggress

Beijing Olympics 2008

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 20

Beijing Olympics are over, everybody is back home
Some with silver, some with gold
Some are back with memories to be told
Of various ceremonies that were performed on the poles

Nobody complained of human rights
They clapped for performers, who were dressed in lights
Everybody was blogging about those spectacular sights
While jealous people around the world called this a ´blight´

Visitors and sportsmen were in happy mood
Every half an hour they gulped Chow Chow food
Shaking their head, they said ´it was good´
Had nickname for every loser, it was ´hey Dude!´

Now Chinese are all lonely men
Twiddling their thumbs in their darkly den
Have not enough money to even buy a pen
Wasted it all on a golden hen

Sunday, August 24, 2008


Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 19

You put a right foot in, you put a right hand out
Then you chop a naughty troll who shows his head around
You go the boogey, doggey, then swirl the troll down
And then bury him under the ground

Saturday, August 23, 2008

hai wu

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 11

Irresponsible lass
Puffing away her hard earned cash
On a cloud of black mess


Stingy Paul
Won’t spend no penny nor a dime
Eating steamed rice with a stale lime


Said one chair to another
Here comes bum with a sexy flair


Elephant had difficulty
Finding a wife, he needed a surgery
Of his dental spike


Red hot cigarettes,
Drugs and pipes
Friends of short lived Johns and Mike


Pregnant Susan went by bus
To get herself operated
She got stuck in a traffic jam
And found herself stranded


I am in bliss
I just had a miss
Of fowl breathed kiss


Shaft is bent, hands so sweaty
Whacked like a sucker, I can hardly walk
To be desired, a follow-through leaves a lot
Hold on, I need to wash my balls
And put them back into this golf bag

Friday, August 22, 2008

I dont need you

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 10

dont stare at me with those silly eyes
time to say to you my good byes
i dont wish to keep with you any ties
you have told me too many of your lies
lately I have seen you with too many guys
sitting on their lap or sleeping on their thighs
pouting and breathing with all those sighs
hiding behind those colourful hair dyes
sometimes in your group of fives
drinking and swearing under those spell of highs
I would rather prefer that simple girl who is chi

Hike who

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 9

Stains of poetry
leaking through those broken hearts
lovers suicide

Que Sera, Sera

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

# 8

On a warm and sunny day
I asked BMC officer on my way
Will we see cleaner streets
Will you clear off the plastic sheets
Is this what he said to me
Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be
Your problems is not ours to see, que sera sera,
Whatever can be, will see.

Last week at Bandra East
For stamp duty paper, I had met some cheats
Everybody was rushing
Shouting and crushing
Then one peon said to me
Pude challa, challa, gardhi nakko, saheb ghari gella
Forms are finished now we have no more
Atta tu pan ghari challa, challa

Now that Bhindhra has won a gold
All the sportsmen have become quite bold
Everybody is practicing
Endorsing or bribing
Believing that even they can win
Pappu, Mona, Sona, chonna, you too can join in, Lolla
Their tutors and their offspring’s too, come on fella, fella
No harm in trying, Salla.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Skywalks of Mumbai

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August


There is a budget set aside of six hundred crores
For Mumbai skywalkers who are normally bores
Now they will jog to work freely in and out of city
On long blue skywalks without any self pity

The first one at Bandra that was inaugurated the other day
Was used by ‘Queer Qaadis’ who call themselves Gay
They inspected the bridge to see if it was strong
Their precious decisions are normally never wrong

It is good place for marching, there is no vehicular traffic
You can walk freely, carelessly, without the horns of autoricks
The elevated walkway framed structure with Polycarbonate Sheets
Are great escape from heavy rains during such ‘Queer’ meets

There are seating arrangements, steel railings and powerful lights
Comfortably they can scream and shout for their rights
The skywalks have escalators, landscaping, and garbage bins,
When tired from too much shouting, they can share cold beer tins

There is enough space to accommodate the road side hawkers.
Mumbaikars might enjoy even the live shows by rockers
It is great fun to be in the city that has so much to give
Non resident Mumbaikars are most welcomed here to live.

Some more on clerihew

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

Some more on clerihew, a short humorous biographical poem

# 3

Sharukh Khan
What do you want?
Gauri, Saif or Kantaben
Whom do you prefer again and again?

# 4

Shobha De
Has a mind of clay
With filmy gossip and idle chat
She shocked George Bush that poor chap!

# 5

Ambhani Mukesh
Went to Rishikhesh
Bought lots of sadhus with his stinking money
And learnt their craft, now that was not funny

# 6

Ekta Kapoor
Was on a world tour
She packed her bags with letters ‘kay’
And watched her own serials every day!

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Pest called Shobha Thoral

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August


Shobha Thoral
Was a member of my writer's forum
With her venomous tongue, and her nutty brains
She could dig her verses from her kitchen drains

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Poetry Party

Godawful Poetry Fortnight - 19th - 31st August

Although most of my poems are bad, I am pleased to write one for this special fornight.....Thanks to Caferati, it has plaform for bad poetry too....merrily I will use jarring or discordant sounds, happily I can irritate the good poets.....

There was an invitation
To the read-meet of poetry
Just two block away
From my normal route of loitering

I rhymed and chimed the verses
As I saw the poets passing
But none heard my poems
Although all were so classic

They didn’t even look at me
For that I was angry
I tortured them then
By spewing out my bad poetry

Stop! Said the poet
A distinguished member of that clan
Please don’t rhyme any more
You might ruin the party plan

Your poetry has no meter
It is worse than a broken disc
You might create a commotion
And that I cannot risk

Friends, come on over here
Bring six bottles of beer
Drain it down his throat
So that he cannot swear

Gulp! Gulp! Gulp!
Hic! Hic! Hic!

I was a good poet, hic
I could perform a good poetry
But they did not invite me
Those Gawd-Damn, blistering... Hic!

Monday, August 11, 2008

The Fancy Dress Party

The music reverberated in the room as he reached his hand under the pillow to extract the photograph and look at it once more.

This picture was a special one, although being one of his best shots, it still brought him pain. He wished it was he, instead of that person in the photograph, who was dressed in shirt, pant and black tie with his head covered by thin muslin cloth. He would have loved to relish her kiss through a veil and he felt a pang of jealousy as he stared at the picture of the couple, with their faces hidden behind the thin muslin cloth, deeply engrossed in their passionate moments.

He had clicked many more pictures on that day; pictures of his friends in fancy dress, some in odd shaped goggles that covered half their faces, then there were others with colour wigs, some blond, some red, and some with feathers. Fancy dress always added mystery to the party. He was happy when he was invited to the party as a professional photographer. He focused his lens on his friends and their companions and tried to guess the face behind their facades. He had not wanted to wear any special outfit for that party preferring to play with his lens and capture the moments.

He had enjoyed sitting between his shoots at the bar, sipping the martini and watching his friends dance at the beat of the rhythm. There was the combination of western and Bollywood music. It was during his third drink, that he had noticed her enter the room. He had recognized her by her red dress with a pink minivers. He had bought that dress from an expensive store and had given it her on her birthday.

“Happy birthday, Maina, I hope you like it” he had told her as he had placed the gift-wrapped dress on her lap, when she had visited his house to exchange some notes with his sister.

She had loved it, especially the smooth touch of the material, and had praised him for his good choice of clothes. He had never seen her wear that dress until that day at the party and her face was covered with a thin muslin cloth over her head. He was surprised. She had not even mentioned that she would be attending that party. Had he known that she would be attending, he would have accompanied her. And then, he had seen her companion, his face covered too, with similar thin muslin cloth. He was holding her in that special way. To hide his disappointment, he had hidden his face behind his lens.

For the rest of the evening, he had focused his lens on this couple, capturing their move, zooming, focussing, and clicking their every moment as they had danced, kissed, and swayed to the music. Their bodies moved together matching the mood and the beat of the music. He had waited for them to uncover their faces and had hoped that it was not Maina, even though he was sure that it was the same dress that he had purchased with so much love.

Later, he had seen them sneak out and he had followed them. He had seen them enter the powder room and he had been surprised. He had waited outside, in the far corner, on the couch under the dim light.

And then he had seen them without their veil of thin muslin cloth, hand in hand, Maina and his sister, who was dressed in shirt, pants and a black tie.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Bejing Olympics 2008

recorded the music
´Chak de India´
Just in case,
One of them
A bit faster
Than the rest
And gets one gold
Or more
From the city
That is painted
Orange and red

I see them all
Behind my plasma
Jay walking
Pausing a moment
You are right
They might bring gold
My country men
You see them there
Wearing smile
With desi dress in

If I were sporty
Or talented
Or rich
Or influential
To pull the strings
Of luck
I too
Would walk proudly
Savouring the limelight
But alas!
I cannot
And I am feeling

Later that evening
With family and friends
We betted
On their victory
With wine and bread
There were chops and chicken
And mutton and beef
But me
Being a veggie
All I ate was
The Greens

Enjoying Beijing Olympics
Coated with every hue
Be it orange, green, white or red
Or even if they have
All shades
Of blue


Tuesday, August 05, 2008

I Write

I write when my muse play tricks on me
Hiding behind the tunes of adversity
A simple thing such as smile, or anger or quote
Sets my world rolling into poetry

Friday, August 01, 2008


Smile adorns a thousand words
a dressy garment for every jest
With frills of laughter and of joy
There in no man who wouldn’t enjoy

It costs nothing, not a dime
But you can walk with it for a mile
You hold its hands of happiness
And shake off the dust of painful stress

He who dons a gloomy face
Will lag behind in happy race
An iron face with frozen lips
knows not how to live with grace

When pain eclipse the face of smile
Can pessimisms really explain the rhyme?

Sunday, July 06, 2008

Pappu Can't Dance Sala' (Lyrics)

There is a popular song in Mumbai which is there on everybody’s lips and you can hear every child, every teenager and even housewives humming which goes like this ‘Pappu can’t dance sala’

The lyrics are funny

It says that Pappu is very popular, he is muscular, spectacular, bachelors. He drives fast cars. And girls are crazy about him. He had blue eyes and looks like an English man, he wears Rado watch and wears Gucci perfume but Pappu can't dance..

Hai muscular, hai popular, hai muscular, hai popular, spectacular, he is a bachelor
Paapu ki gaadi tez hai, Pappu kudiyon mein craze hai
Pappu ki aankhen light blue, pappu dikhta angrez hai
Rado ki ghadi haathon mein perfume gucci wala
But Pappu can’t dance saala, Pappu can’t dance saala
Pappu naach nahi sakta
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance

Pappu was born lucky with a silver spoon in his mouth, he has money, he has friends, Pappu is hot and he is smart but Pappu can’t dance

Paida Pappu hua to kismatein chamki
Aur uske muh mein thi chandi ki chamchi
Hey hey hey Pappu ke paas hai paisa
Hey ye.. ye.. haathon ke mail ke jaisa
Hey hey hey Pappu yaaron ka yaar hai
Hey ye.. ye.. Pappu hot hai and smart hai
But Pappu can’t dance saala, Pappu can’t dance saala
Pappu naach nahi sakta
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance

Pappu’s father is proud of him and he believes Pappu will make a great name for himself,He has PA. he holidays in France, he plays guitar, he is comfortable everywhere but Pappu can’t dane.

Papa kehte hain bada naam karega, mera Pappu to aisa kaam karega
Hey hey hey Pappu ke paas hai P.A.
Hey karta hai France mein holiday
Hey hey hey Pappu guitar bajata hai
Hey ye.. ye.. jahan jaata hai chhaa jaata hai
But Pappu can’t dance saala
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance
But Pappu can’t dance saala, Pappu naach nahi sakta
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance
Tirkit tana tirkit tana teeri tana let’s dance
Pappu naach nahi sakta

This song (from a Bollywood film 'Jane Jaane na' has great music and everybody can dance on this music except Pappu!

Thursday, July 03, 2008

I got drifted with the flow........

When I was younger, I was full of dreams…..crazy dreams. .I wanted to do something really great, something like start a school and run it successfully, or start a toy factory and manufacture lots of innovate toys, or start a publishing house….etc, etc..

When I went to live with my brother’s family in Spain, I thought it is a great city to build my dreams. The reality knocked my head when I realized that wishes and talent are not enough to fulfill any dream. Money and luck play a very important role in people’s life. Money builds money and money is power. Language in a foreign land is the first barrier to any progress and then there are visas and work permits and third is the location where you stay (my brother stays far away from the city), all three factors wasted my time and chained my dreams.My mom was a heart patient, my brother had three kids and I spent next ten years looking after the family and helping my brother in his retail store.

Six years ago I came to Mumbai for a holiday and then decided not to go back. I got interested in working for mentally challenged children and started helping my friend with her school. My friend had great faith in me and I would not let her down. With my writing skills and my contacts, I was able to raise the money for the school. We started the program of ‘Walk with me and be my friend’ and raised money for expansion of the school by one floor and started a vocational program for mentally challenged. Money kept flowing. During the last six years that I have been with the school, we have acquired two school buses, have 55 children under sponsorship scheme, have sheltered workshops and we are in the process of building a residential home for mentally challenged.

I am not taking credit for anything, (most of the important work in the school is done by my friend and her staff) but I feel that this is what is destined for me. I am the coordinator and committee member of the school and a great chunk of money passes through my hands, month after month.

I got introduced to Ryze through a friend. I accepted her invitation just to be polite (I thought it was one of those scam mails) She insisted that I join some networks on Ryze and I got interested in ‘Caferati-the writer’s group’. I attended their read-meets to see the face behind those writings and I am very happy to be the part of that group, they have helped me polish my work and I look forward to those read-meets. I saw S&C on Ryze but was reluctant to join at first because I felt that I did not qualify for that standard of writing and was afraid of making a fool of myself. I continued to post on Caferati and saw so many of my friends on S&C and then one day I gathered my courage and decided to plunge myself into this group.

S&C is the great place to be and that I realized that when I met the moderator of the group in Mumbai during her last visit from US. Her honest comments on my work was very encouraging. I did get inferiority complex (sometimes) when I saw so much talent at the forums but I do feel proud to be the part of these group and I have learnt a lot. I enjoy the weekly themes and the feedbacks that follow.

I am still counting my blessings……

Monday, June 30, 2008

Take me back, Please!

My dearest love, it is almost dawn
Will you be back? Its been so long
Are you really, really mad at me
For being with your friend in my pink nightie
In early hours of that fateful day
When you had walked in and watched him sway?

There is something that I have to say. Yes!
He had stayed back but for only a day
Trust me, he knows, I wear your ring
Would we ever do any stupid thing?
He helps me with jobs that are heavy for me
During your long, long absence from home at sea

That fateful moment before you arrived
Having lost my keys, I was stranded at night
I called for help from my white mobile
He brought the tools to clear my plight
He followed me in for my security
And waited a while for a warm coffee

We chatted for long and didn’t realize
When clock chimed three, it was late, late night
I lent him your shorts and then changed mine
He slept on the couch in the hall. So quiet!
You trust him, don’t you? He is your buddy
Could we do anything that would be muddy?

My fingers are sore from punching hard
Did you read my SMS’s and my desperate calls?
I know you can’t be angry, not for long
So shed you precious pride and come along
Come back, my darling, I am missing you
Will bake a cake, and freeze ice-creams too

Friday, June 20, 2008


Pipes are choked with air and dust
Water trickles down the spout
Dropping its lazy drops
I slap the tap, block the spout,
Thrust my fore finger into its mouth
Then suddenly,
The water emerges angrily through the spout
Splashing on my face and blouse
I am late again.

Thursday, June 19, 2008


Touching my lazy soul
Stimulating a broken thought
Poetry flows down my veins
Reviving me to another muse

I am left fumbling,
Collecting the scattered words
To fix them into
A proper message for you

So much easier it was
To pluck the words
From poetic inspiration
And weave them into
A fine tapestry of tunes

You would read between lines
and framed them up
with rhythm and sounds
in your favorite room

Monday, June 16, 2008

My dog – Rex

“Can you give a bath to Rex? I have to attend a kitty party and I am running late.” said my wife

“Why should I give bath to Rex, he is your dog, so you do it” I said

“Now don’t you start all over again. There is nothing that is solely ‘yours’ or ‘mine’. Everything is ‘ours’. We share everything. Remember? So, Rex is your dog too.” Said my wife

“Yes, we do share everything but, that is limited to housework and money only. I cannot take your dog’s responsibilities too. I didn’t want him here in the first place but you have brought him here stubbornly into my house.” I said

“Shuush! Talk softly. You will hurt his feelings and if he feels unwanted here, he will go into depression.” Said my wife

“Don’t you shuush me. It is me who is going through depression. He watches 'Animal Planet' show on my TV, he sleeps on my side of the bed and most nights I am sleeping on the sofa.” I said

“Oh Honey! Sofa is so comfortable. You shouldn’t be complaining.” Said my wife

“Complaining? Am I? I am warning you. I don’t like to see you wasting so much money on dogs’ birthday parties or taking him for grooming in those expensive beauty parlors.” I said

“Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! Money spend on Rex is not wasted, my dear. What is the use of working so hard and earning if we cannot spend it wisely? I think, you are plain jealous of Rex. You don’t understand, he has many friends out there. He needs to look good when I take him for walks by the sea shore. It boosts his ego.” Said my wife

*Ding Dong*

“Can you answer the door-bell Honey? Who is it?” said my wife

“It is a food parcel. Did you order butter chicken from Taj Intercontinental?” I said

“Oh yes. Has it arrived? It is for Rex.” said my wife.

“Rex, Rex. Come here Baby; Look what Mama gets for you?

“You like butter chicken, don’t you?”

“Come baby come. Eat it. It is good.”


“See what you have done. You see that? Rex is very upset and now he won’t eat. Are you happy now?” Said my wife

“Ummnph! I wish he would learn to read the script. He would know then, what he was missing.” I said

*Growl…Sure, I can read the script maan.. it says t-a-j-i-n-t-e-r-c-o-n-t-i-n-e-n-t-a-l. I can smell it too and I know that it is a great place to eat and butter chicken is its specialty. But still, I will not eat, unless you agree to give me a bath…..woof!*

Monday, June 09, 2008

One more Birthday.... Again....

Young at heart, it matters not
what age I be on my next big day

Year after year
I have smiled along,
and seen the world pass me by

Till 10 I would count and was thrilled each year
eager I was to reach my teens
I faked about my age to gate crash a scene
I lied to stay young, at thirty that was mean

but at 40 I stopped, counting my age
the mirror on the wall refused to lie
now i just count the wrinkles on my face
watch myself grow with renewed grace

young at heart it matters not
what age I be on my next big day
I shall blow just one candle
and watch myself age
I dread to turn my life's next page.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Shanti Kunj

My family home, not mere house of stones
Warmth and love fills its bones
fragrant smiles greets me at doors
Seeping through my skinny pores

Fragrance that was brewed from days
When I was young and of tender age
I would pack my valise every holidays
With mom and family I would tag always

I’d spend few days with cousins dear
Who greeted always with pleasant cheers
We would tease and laugh and roll with joy
All day, all night, we would enjoy

Laughter’s, fun frolic, sway-
Foodstuff cooked and brewed all day
Vibes and chats of every rank
Found a place in memory bank

Presently, it’s still a loving den
Our family laughter echoes there
Big sister now, reigns the throne
She greets us there with love adorned

Food and jokes are still alive
Dotted now, with spiritual rhymes
We reach there stealing cozy times
Exchanging golden, funny lines

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Nano car muse

Morning is the time, when I sit on my special chair in the corner of the room, by the window. It is the time of the day, when I read a newspaper or watch the news on TV. This is my favorite space which has good vibes and it helps me recall the feeling of peace. It is a spot where the energy works for me and I can feel the tension release, until, I hear my wife say “Good Morning!”

Things are never the same, thereafter.

It is the silly matters that distract me from her. She will enter the bathroom and scream when she finds that the napkins in the bathroom have not been placed back on the hook, or how I had squeezed the toothpaste that was not as per her instructions, or why the soap dish is not kept in a particular position. Silly me, I keep forgetting her instruction all the time.

But, even on the days when I am very careful, there will be some issues that I can never handle.

Like, today morning, my wife says that she wants to buy 'Tata Nano' for our maid.

“Why does a maid need a car?” I protest

“Because she is always late to work.” And then she tells me how difficult it is for her, to do all the work, when there are bus strikes.

The conversation then shifts to Nano’s price, which is very attractive and affordable. As she goes about, doing all the odd jobs in the house and going to and fro, from kitchen to bedroom, from preparing breakfast to putting things away and dusting all the rooms, she talks about people who own entry-level cars, who are now thinking of going in for either one Nano or maybe two, which will cost the same as their existing car. So, there would be one car for the head of the family and another for the family.

Nano car has been one of the hottest topics in every home. Few days ago, my friend was mentioning about the great discussion he was having in his family, with his neighbors, with lift man and even, sometimes with his dog! Everyone is excited about this new car.

I leave my special chair, my meditative space by the window and start to dress up for the office. I shave, bathe, dress and keep nodding my head as she tells me about the taxi driver, who wants to replace his car with Nano, because he is confident that he can easily cover the lakh that he will need to invest in. She talks about a new range of auto repair shops and accessories that might spawn at every street corner, she mentions the local milkman who has started thinking of holders on the side of his car for his milk cans, about the curbside Chinese joint, who is thinking of turning mobile via the Nano.

Where does she find so much energy to talk so much, early in the morning? The day had not begun. I wished somebody would invent a remote control with a volume control to turn off the volume of the conversation that we don’t wish to hear. New technology is discovering all kinds of things to make our life comfortable. I was beginning to feel that somebody out there must surely be working on this too. What fun would that be? I would use the remote to hear the conversation of my neighbor’s wife. Selective hearing, isn’t that what it is called? Channel one…flat number one, channel two, flat number two, channel three……..

“Hello, are you listening?” she says as she emerges from the kitchen and smiles as me.

“I particularly liked the steel Grey Nano. It has a style of its own. It’s affordable and looks quite comfortable. It’s good for a small family. I am keen to know when bookings will kick off,” she says as she sets the breakfast plates on the table.

“It’s an affordable car, no doubt. But I would rather wait a year before buying it, just to see what the experience is like,” I say, as I chomp on a sandwich.

“What do you mean? Do you want me to look like a fool in front of my kitty party friends?” She says, wide-eyed, glaring at me.

The sound of the door bell breaks the spell as her favorite maid reports to work.

Monday, February 18, 2008

I am still a little girl

Don’t patronize me
Don’t buy my wares
I don’t wish to work
On this long, long road.

I need to learn
To play with words
And earn bright future
In this bleak, damp world

If you buy my wares
I might learn that
There is no greed to study
To earn a bread

Ignorant I will be
With no phrases to delight
How can you empower me,
If I can’t spell it right?

Don’t encourage me to work
Help me see the light,
I am just a little girl
Please save me from this plight.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Give me a role to play.

All the world is a stage
We are but the actors doing our part
Oops! I have got all mixed up
But, where are my reel lines?
I have forgotten my branded script
I am uttering all the used words

The character that I was to play
Didn’t demand this awful day
It is all so confusing
These dialogues cannot be mine
Help I don’t wish to do this
I really cannot mime.

Context defines the roles I play
It clearly defines my relationship
Best sailing will be those
Which I can maneuver it to precision
This role cannot be mine
Help! I don’t wish to mime

I wish to be aware of a situation
Acting the role as context demands
I cannot be the same person everywhere
Cannot be the same in every location

I want to choose my roles wisely
I want to wear the robes of perfection
I need a garb of a great actor
In this soap opera of love and affection

All the world is stage
Help me seek my part that is wise
I don’t wish to be mixed up
I need to reach a goal of salvation.

This gibberish, muttering rhymes
Help! I don’t really wish to do this.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Mom.......Taare Zameen par...lyrics

I have told you not that I am afraid of dark
I can express it not, but I care for you Mom
You know everything, isn’t it Mom?

Leave me not like this in the crowd
That I cannot return home Mom
Send me not so far away
That you cannot recall me Mom

Am I so bad Mom?
Am I so bad?

When dad swings me hard on the swing
I look for you Mom,
Thinking that you will come
And hold me Mom
I tell him this not
But I get too nervous Mom
I show it not on my face
But in my heart I am too afraid Mom

You know everything
isn’t it Mom?

lyrics in Hindi....

Main Kabhi Batlata Nahin
Par Andhere Se Darta Hoon Main Maa
Yun To Main,Dikhlata Nahin
Teri Parwaah Karta Hoon Main Maa
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata, Hain Na Maa
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata,,Meri Maa

Bheed Mein Yun Na Chhoro Mujhe
Ghar Laut Ke Bhi Aa Naa Paoon Maa
Bhej Na Itna Door Mujkko Tu
Yaad Bhi Tujhko Aa Naa Paoon Maa
Kya Itna Bura Hoon Main Maa
Kya Itna Bura Meri Maa

Jab Bhi Kabhi Papa Mujhe
Jo Zor Se Jhoola Jhulate Hain Maa
Meri Nazar Dhoondhe Tujhe
Sochu Yahi Tu Aa Ke Thaamegi Maa
Unse Main Yeh Kehta Nahin
Par Main Seham Jaata Hoon Maa
Chehre Pe Aana Deta Nahin
Dil Hi Dil Mein Ghabraata Hoon Maa
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata Hai Naa Maa
Tujhe Sab Hai Pata Meri Maa

Main Kabhi Batlata Nahin
Par Andhere Se Darta Hoon Main Maa
Yun To Main,Dikhlata Nahin
Teri Parwaah Karta Hoon Main Maa
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata, Hain Na Maa
Tujhe Sab Hain Pata,,Meri Maa

Sunday, January 06, 2008


Love sees nothing beyond your smile,
Closes its eyes and dreams in your chariot
It lingers around your cozy smile
Drinking its warmth of care and faith

Unruly hair, soiled clothes
Not washed for days and many nights
Blocked behind your sweetest smile that
That glows and shimmers of joy, so bright

A ride through dew drops, dazzling sunshine
With aura of love like a crown,
Drives through beauty smile of innocence
Filling the heart sans a frown

Reserve your smile just for me, I am dazed
I need not to look beyond your face.


Saturday, January 05, 2008

What are friends for?

What to cook? When you have no clue
And your helper is on holiday because of flu
Fridge is full, but you know not what to do
Take-away services, you don’t like it too

Just invite you best friend for some tea
And pretend to clean some green fresh bean
Your friend, I am sure, after her casual chat
May help you with cooking while you relax

You can call more friends, if you please
A party can follow with a smile and ease
You can have more fun with delicious chat
But don’t forget to ask your friends to help

For long after your best friends are gone
Those piled and soiled dishes might make a frown.

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