Keepers of Old Customs
Cost of Flying
Pain Poetry
Why I thought about you
Grapes of a Distant Land
Grapes of a distant land are way more delicious
Than grapes of homeland
They claim just by looking at the picture of them
They fight with you despite the fact
That you have been to distant land and
You have savored those grapes
Countless times directly from
The grape vine in the distant land
And found their grapes are
No more unique in taste
Than grapes at your homeland
What next?
They refute your claims by comparing
Jams made from both types of grapes
Maternity Leave
Maternity has become a sort of endemic
How could I afford maternity leave for all the ladies
Who join my workplace to get pregnant
He sends out an advertisement
In the leading daily which reads
Female staff required
Unmarried or married
As long as they aren’t pregnant
And don’t wish to be pregnant
In future
Mandodari’s Frog Days
Mayasura and Hema, lovers of two different worlds
One demon and one nymph,
prayed to lord Shiva for a daughter
There was a nymph named Madhura
To express her love for Shiva
She danced her heart’s out for Shiva
When Parvati arrived she cursed Madhura
To be a frog and to live in a well for 12 years
Shiva calmed Parvati down and diluted her curse
“You will marry a man that you will love”
Shiva handed her over to Mayasura and Hema
The love and care of two different creeds
She was destined to be loved
And then one day Ravana walked in her house
Kamdhenu
Option A:
Think of a cattle wandering around you
Write a letter to the authorities, ask them for money, open a gaushala/shelter, force people for donations in the name of cattle (if not threaten them with dire consequences about heaven and hell), admit only native cattle (supposed mother of Indian): not the cross-bred and non-descript
And after that
Eat their fodder and money and if that doesn’t satisfy your appetite: sell some to illegal traders
In addition, get the job to protect the illegal traders
Option B:
Wander around like a cow or in group like cows here and there
Find someone/others ferrying the cattle from one place to another
Tie a saffron cloth on your forehead
If that person belonged to other religion, that’s even better
Follow him or them
Chant the word cow smuggler online or offline
Till you get enough followers
Arm them with sticks or stone or both
Locate a place to beat him/them up, without disturbance
Chant ‘Hail Mother Cow’ when police arrives
Keep repeating it even in lockup
So the big and influential people come and talk to you
And offer you job or something bigger
Option C:
It is summer season
Let the cow wander in hot weather
And feed on hot air
How long can the cow survive?
Call the media and plant blame on someone
That you dislike or even hate or want to extract revenge
Cry ‘Mother cow’ ‘Cow Mother’
Kamdhenu: solution to all your problems
You get what you ask for
A Tiny Bible of Criticism
I sneaked onto every comment on others’ writing
like a thief stealing in broad day light
but in term of knowledge, these weren’t even
worth my time.
From stealing – I couldn’t benefit much.
Most of these comments were pretty basic
Geared to not offend the writer
My turn came
I can be nice to them but I abandoned
my view – I couldn’t cheat them such.
Sometimes, I found comments I like
rare like gem stones at seashore, glistening
from a distance, and waiting for to be picked
but because of their scarcity – I couldn’t learn much.
Why didn’t people give meaningful comments?
Why they spoke in cryptic language,
Were they just short of time or they had assumed
serious comments will fetch serious replies.
Baffled by reality and eulogy of such kind
A mirage – I couldn’t trust much.
May be others didn’t like reality
Lots of love is that they all need
Happy and ignorant they would sleep
on unreliable fluffy mattress made out of
unadulterated love of their parents.
Their souls wake them up in the middle of the night
“Life like a rapid river will flush the mediocrity one day”
But they discard it saying
It’s too pessimist- I couldn’t help much.
They were aware of reality and
they had shed bloody-truth from their conscience
seeking only praise from their critique group
where they pledged against passable ‘literature’
when started on this ink-path,
I resist the temptation – I couldn’t reiterate as such.
In writing and in life
Truth is the only survival mechanism
Truth will rise: only when we swim with problems;
not when we stare at them like inert pebbles of shore.
Little procrastination is acceptable but to dupe others
That’s where I draw the line – I couldn’t do such.