So, John, whom i’ve known for decades of years
Wants something written on sounds and ears
Let me give it a shot
Some scribbling i’ll jot
And let’s hope, People, i don’t bore you to tears!
He mentioned sounds of silence
Which, even with microscopic lens
Are very hard to find
Even in one’s own mind
Unless one enters meditation dens!
Most musical instruments entertain
Except when afflicted with migraine
Then throbbing’s to the fore
Even thrumming, not so sure
And any sort of sound is treated with disdain!
Now let’s go over to the pleasanter side
It’s very difficult, so you decide
Pattering rain or church-bells ringing
Crunching gravel or song-birds trilling
Or a heart-felt ‘I love you’ in a whispered aside!
Dancing castanets with the rustle of silk
A gurgling baby with the slurping of milk
Clinking glasses and hearty laughter
Cooking in the kitchen to friendly banter
Now it’s up to y’all to add to this ilk!

What Does Your Nose Tell You? (17JULY13)

Fragrances and smells
Evoke memory bells
A suckled thumb
Smells comfort to some
While a dad’s sweat forever in the mind dwells!
Ironing throws up a lot of scents
As steam wafts up through the vents
The sour smell of home-made starch
To stiffen uniforms for a smart march
And cowdung-lined floors of NCC tents!
Just-washed clothes smell fresh
Under a too-hot iron they’ll mesh
But last night’s perfume
Will sometimes subsume
A baby’s Johnson & Johnson bassinet or creche!
Flowers and weddings go together
Whilst the couple, for Life, gets to tether
Marigolds and roses
Jasmine and tuberoses
Send me to heaven hell-for-leather!
To conclude, i’d like y’all to share
What your nose dis/likes — will you dare?
If yes, tell us why
And what gives you a high
You’ll all enjoy the evoking, i do swear!

Fascinating Feathered Friends (04JULY11)

I’d written this story a long time ago – in 1993 – in Jodhpur. Maybe you’ll like it.

Our fascination with birds started when we were posted to Secunderabad, and were fortunate enough to be staying in a big bungalow with a fully-grilled front room in which we kept a few potted. plants. We had hung up a small Chinese lantern and were amazed when a couple of beautiful Sunbirds built their nest on top of it, incorporating the red tassels skillfully and neatly into their home. Later, two tiny eggs appeared, but we couldn’t see the end of that story because we were posted out. We hoped the new tenants would let the lantern be.

Now, ten years later, we’ve seen a complete story unfold itself in our presence, and I’m so happy, I want to tell the whole world about it. [Little did I dream then, that it could be possible!!! Thank you, Net.]

Kuggi, a dove, has found us worthy of her trust, and has built a scanty, untidy nest amongst the two branches of our broken ‘barasinga’ (twelve-pronged antlers) on a disused angle-iron shelf on our first-floor front verandah, where we spend much of our time. Initially, the mother was very aggressive when we went near the nest – which we had to – our clothesline for drying our underlinen was discreetly slung there, hidden behind the cycles. On two occasions, she took off, frantically flapping her wings, and banging herself on the ceiling, leaving spots of blood. Then she realised we’d do her no harm and let us come near. The father was very trusting. He’d let us put grain within his pecking distance without batting an eyelid – literally!

Their first two attempts at child-(or doveling-)rearing met with disaster – the cat got ’em. Then, our fourteen-year-old son, Rayomand, using his ingenuity, tied up layers of hardboard and netting to the balcony to prevent the cat from getting a foothold onto it.

Then – success at last! Two eggs were laid – a couple of days apart. We saw the father and mother patiently taking turns hatching them. If one got tired, it would call the other with strident cooing (I know the phrase sounds contradictory, but theres no other way I can describe it). A couple of weeks later, two dirty-brown, scruffy balls of course wool appeared in place of the two eggs. Every day that passed showed them looking less untidy, and gradually, the soft-brown feathers asserted themselves and the wooly ones were preened off with patient monotony. Then, they hopped onto the barasinga and started spreading and flapping their wings. Barely a couple of days later, off one flew on its first solo to the nearby Gulmohr (Mayflower) tree. The other one followed suit the next day.

Rayomand was rewarded for all his efforts by one of them landing on the swing and letting him kiss it three times on its beak. Aryamand, our younger, nine-year-old son, being himself as gentle and sensitive as a dove, has been fascinated by the whole process. We have all been honoured by them letting us touch and stroke them. It has thrilled us immensely to see them grow into adulthood successfully. (God’s grace, can say the same about the sons too.)

Well, what now? Cheers and more thrills! Mother Dove re-arranged the nest (just four days after the solo flights) and has laid one egg today (21st April, 1993). Perhaps another will follow soon………..?

In the meantime, another feathered family (of sparrows) has built its nest “right above our noses”. But thats another story!

An update on the Dove Story. Today (26th April), I got an opportunity to peep into the nest. Voila! Another pearly round egg has appeared!

Hope you all liked this story as much as I liked reminiscing it. Love and hugs:-) Take care keep smiling and God bless.

For a Change, Chagrin (2010)

I usually don’t rant and rave
In the face of adversity have tried to be brave
But constantly being thwarted
Going out-of-the-way to be faulted
Makes me, for a change, WANT to be grave!
Whilst jealousy, as a vice, is unspeakable
Emotional blackmail is despicable
Refusal to recognize
Lunacy in disguise
And to see beyond I/Me/Myself — utterly incapable!
For some, only riches matter
Love and care is just plain blather
Matlab achieved
Reward received
Ingratitude and revenge resumes amidst clatter!
‘Use and Throw’ is their given
Much like a woman’s sanitary napkin
Sorry to be graphic
But it’s a noted statistic
By long-past examples they’re driven!
I have a lot of love to give
Believing we have only one Life to live
Our homes and hearts have always been open
For peace and harmony we’ve always striven
And with positive GRATITUDE, conquered the negative!
Our minds have also been distinctly open
To wise counsel — suggestions that just happen
Because narrow bigotry
Only lead to misery
And self-centeredness attracts sneering sanction!
How hard is it to live in peace?
Not to pick fights with consummate ease?
Not to bear caring?
Time spent sharing?
Doesn’t one get tired of the jealousies?
I hereby bring to a close
And herewith sanction impose
On things unpleasant
And be cognizant
That peace — in heart too — should repose!


A favourite aroma
Is that of a  mogra
Rajnigandha and rose
Equally juxtapose
But Rangoon creeper clusters make me go Halleluyah!
Neem flowers are heavenly
Frangipani a tad heady
Tacoma too fleeting
Chrysanthemum refreshing
But nothing as faint as the gladioli!
Lavender gives repose
Sandalwood prayers pose
Camphor is strong
Vanilla lingers long
But nothing beats rain-on-mud in summer throes!
Peel an orange in a closed car
And sleep will run very far
The tanginess of lime
Makes sugared water sublime
Mash-melon, pineapple and jackfruit certainly raise the bar!
Henna flowers smell so sweet
But henna itself makes one bleat
It’s partner in beauty is turmeric
Fragrant, golden, anti-carcinogenic
And now this blog is at an end — replete!


Vishakhapatnam, as a name, is quite a mouthful
Vizag, by contrast, is just a teeny toothful
‘Tis a port in the Bay of Bengal
It’s blue waters kept me in thrall
Spent most of my time soaking it in by the eyeful!
Saw a myriad crabs ballet-gliding on the beach
From the rolling waves, i did earnestly beseech
That the Captain could come
And meet his beloved one
Alas, they determined he remain out of reach!
A submarine is on display
On Vizag beach, by the Bay
A marvel of engineering
Truly awe-inspiring
But disheartening, when thinking of man’s war-play!
There are no sea-gulls in Vizag
Only crows, on kites, zig-zag
Wonder why is that
Do they, with others, spat
Or is the East coast too much of a monsoon drag!
Our bus had a puncture in the middle of the night
‘Twas changed with the help of a tiny torch light
A skinny young lad went under the bus
He jacked up the Volvo without any fuss
Half an hour later, resumed return, all izz well and alright!