Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
( and a poem by my Fav poet.)



Before its too late
While I'm still sober
No angels, no sleigh bells
None of that clover

In case we're not talking today
Or partying or meeting
A perfectly ordinary
Christmas greeting

Stay well, eat well, drink well
Be of good cheer
A very merry christmas
And a very happy new year

Regards
Rohinton had-too-much-rum-cake Daruwala

Blame it on the martini.

I just adore a tipsy man.
Not drunk--
just a little fuzzy,
with an easy grin
which hasn't gone foolish.
He stops stomping,
lowers his guard,
and learns to trust.
Spontaneous
and delightfully fragile,
with a dreamy look
and a knowing smile,
A little boy
who plays games
like "Dare!"
A romantic
with surprise hugs
and stolen kisses,
which he can later
blame on the booze.
I just adore a tipsy man.

Haiku ? If you insist.

Somewhere here, under

the debris of broken dreams,

I have lost a poem.

Raking the rubble,

I accept that some poems

are born to be landfill.

The Isha Effect

I have a poem

Bursting out of me.

It started as a smile,

Then a giggle,

And then a loud,

Enthralling peal

Of laughter.

A melody without

A tune,

Today

I have become

My poem.

An ode to the Metrosexual Man

Who or why or what or where
Is this phenomenon,
A Metrosexual man ?

His hair is streaked,
His nails are buffed
His face has a Mediterranean tan.

In the bygone days
When Guy were guys
And girls rejoiced in being girls,

There was no question
Who slept at nights,
With hair trussed in kinky curls.

Pastel pinks,
And minty greens
Real men never ever touched.

Give them denims,
Charcoal or khakis
A pinstriped shirt a fashion “must”.

It sounds boring
I know that there
Should be a fine tuned balance.

But a metrosexual man
is the only one who -
can tell a frill from a valance.

In a lighter vain.

The Morning Cuppa

Morning time, when prudent women
faced with a hubby, a grump and a demon
Never worry, and with feminine acumen
Just add coffee - An instant Human!!


Phone

Once there was a skeptical man from Yellowstone
Who for a very first time had seen a phone
He listened in amazement
to the shiny black instrument
said "I had heard it can talk, but this is just a drone"!

Rain

Sparrow on the sill,
Sits with a twig in its beak
Rains have come early.

Gray skies heavy with clouds
Muddy crowded streets, noisy with traffic
My plant looks so green.

Reserve.

It's not about them
but about you
we all know what the truth is

don't administrate but
divide and rule men.
the brits did it then
and you're doing it again.

people will die
but you will thrive
how long do you think
we'll just survive?

brahmins maimed their legs
you've brought crutches for them?
teach them how to fish
but you're buying fish again

the brahmins had convictions in deeds
you're just hiding behind the white suits

if you were a disease you would be
diabetes - silently you kill,
making every sweet poison.

you realise, darwin just turned
in his grave, didn't he?
the fittest just died.

take away someone's limbs
chop and dry the bones
and give them away as crutches
but mind you,
don't give them confidence to walk.

reserve for them a bench
reserve for them a dish
because you're sure they won't eat
they're not really hungry, are they?
eat their share while the hungry die.

it's the end of the day
you want to make sure
the sun rises tomorrow
it's your vote bank you count
and your swiss bank you flaunt

- Hemant Suthar.

Logo designed by Hemant Suthar, commissioned by Vikrant Nath, to be printed on 1000 t-shirts to be distributed among the protesters.

( written to condemn Indian Government's policy of reserving seats for special castes and communities in all universities, and goverment offices. What was introduced fifty years ago as a helping hand to backward communities, is being used today to woo their votes. A game all politicians play all over the world.)

The Unicorn and the Maiden Fair

In a magical forest, in the faraway land
there lived a fierce,untamed Unicorn.

His mane was the longest, his hooves were the strongest,
a fearless Beast,he was king of the forest

his snort was loud and his eyes had the boldest stare
but the Unicorn longed to be tamed by a maiden fair.

Maidens are a myth,every unicorn knows.
Yet his heart yearned for the wondrous sight

as He galloped the forest in a furious flight,
and The dust clouds dark turned the day into night.

He reached a lake one night, in deep despair.
and his eyes beheld on the lake shore, a Maiden Fair.

The unicorn gazed at the bewitching sight,
a maiden fair,in the silvery light,

with the moon on her face and the sun in her hair
she looked alarmed,and ready for flight.

He stood transfixed and gave a bewildered stare
the unicorn gazed with awe at the vision fair.

"What are you, a phantom? A vision surreal?
A vivid illusion,I do declare.

a dream to torment me through the night,
just to vanish in the misty air.

Go away! Be gone from my sight, O Spectre Fair!
You don’t exist! You can’t! You just aren’t there!

The maiden said "It's you, Who’s a myth,
Inhabiting a universe phantasmagoric

who does not exist outside the realm
of legends, a world that is surrealistic.

I am but a simple maiden, not a being rare,
You I believe have emerged out of thin air.

This world, the universe, and heavens above
Our Kith and kin and bonds of love,

You and I, all are Mere illusions.
Manifestation Of Imagination.

If YOU will believe in my existence, if you care
Then I will believe you exist, said the maiden fair.

Her eyes were kind, Loving and clear,
and slowly he moved nearer and nearer.

She stretched her hand and touched his mane,
murmuring his name again and again.

And embraced him to her heart with a gentle prayer
The Unicorn at last had found his maiden fair.

Friends and assorted animals .

Billi


Billi is not one of them
Ordinary cats.

She has swish in the tail,
and she stalks them rats.

In the quiet of the night
You can hear her silence.

A fresh trail of blood is
the only visible evidence.

The Rat-pack got rousing mad,
and turned quite bastardly,

They hatched a plan,which was
really really dastardly.

They ranted and puffed their
little ratty chests,

They searched high and low
getting quite desperate,

But couldn’t find a single Rat,
Who could bell the Elusive Cat.

-----------------------------------

Arjun Bali is such a cool dude
He makes his girls take a swim in nude
He soaks them to gills,
From Spring to winter chills
Then packs and sells them as fish food.

Unadulterated ME- without apologies.

I am a beauty, the whole world knows,

At, at least I do,

That’s enough for me.

Men have fought for my attentions,

At least, that’s

what I like to believe.

A pointy chin,

And a flat big nose,

Easier for sniffing out the news,

A bully, a busybody,

A Ms. Know all,

An insufferable Goody Two shoes.

When people ask me

How Tall I am,

This raises snigger and a laugh,

From toes to head

I measure only

Four feet, eleven and a half,

Interfering, busybody,

Opinions differ,

I would just like to say,

Love me or hate me,

Like me or lump me

Matters not, I am here to stay.

Law has long arms, or Has it ?

Law has long arms,
so he had always heard
But never knew exactly how long,
till he had erred,

Even breaking the tiniest rule,
He always got caught,
A few times even when not,
because they Thought-

-He had guilt scribbled
all over his face.
And as there is no smoke without a fire,
the guilt must have a base.

Our lawmen aren't taught
that to Err is Human,
Nor are they told that,
it's divine to forgive,

They caught him even when
he held a valid ticket.
For his face kind of looked
suspiciously evasive.

They warned him it was wikkit,
to travel without a tikkit !

When a convict escaped
He was interogated-
-With a nasty gleam in their eyes,
which he truly hated

When a heist was made,
he was promptly nabbed.
Dead, or alive, injured or shot-
to be grabbed.

His photos soon graced
all the police stations walls,
along with all the call centers,
wedding halls, malls and stalls.

After being hounded
for the crimes not committed
He learnt to shun the law,
like a decease transmitted.

He quit his day job
and stayed in the house,
He boarded up the windows
and hid quietly as a mouse,

He stopped going out
for a stroll in the park,
and he took up a new job
at a petrol pump after dark

He stuck on a fake beard
and a moustache too.
And when called by name,
looked straight in the eye and said "who?"

His face soon acquired pallor,
his eyes sunken and red,
He shuffled down the street,
in dark glares and a hat over his head.

He learnt to evade the law,
but it created a situation dire
For there began a whispered campaign
that he indeed was a Vampire.

Be my house.

If you will be my house,
be my walls.
Stones and bricks.
Surround me.
Keep out the storm.
Be my walls.

If you wish to.
then be my roof,
my shelter, my shade
cover me on a rainy day
at nights show me stars
be my roof.

You really wanna
be my windows?

Wake me with a sunbeam
let in the morning breeze,
Be my eyes, as I see the world
birds chirp on the sill
and trellis up the window frame

Would you rather be my kitchen
and quench my hunger and thirst?
or my bed and couch
where I rest my self?

But you're the electricity
that dazzles my rooms
and powers me up.

Or may be none of that,
just be the rainbow colours
of my walls and drapes
and pots, pans and dishes,
my towel, my wardrobe.

You are welcome to choose
all that you wish to be,
you may be my
complete house instead.
but not my foundation honey,
not really that.

Because you see,
That has to be Me.

Walls are shaken in quakes
roofs blown off in storms
windows rust and colours fade,
kitchens fall apart,
But a house may still stand.

But if my foundation walks away
where will I live?

Wishes on my Birthday

Wishes on my Birthday from friend Raamesh.

To the walker of dogs
and hawker of art,
the baker of cakes
and maker of candles,
the spreader of cheer,
the forger of happiness,
to the odd job woman,
the dragon of glee,
the caterpillar of hope:
I wish you
a harvest of stars
a spring of flowers.

Happy Birthday Suniti.


-----------------------


Thank you Raamesh :)

I Just can't.......

I can accept her presence in our life.
I can accept you still remembering her.
I can accept her coming first in your regard.
I can accept you dressing me in her colors,
I can accept living a life that should have been hers.
But I can’t ever accept you giving your violin HER name……