Oh Calcutta...Aami Khabo!

i recently travelled to the gourmet paradise
we first rushed to a shop called mithai
we looted the sweet , delicious rosogollas
as the shopkeeper stared in disbelief at us strangers
we quenched our thirst, n headed for another catch
to Flury for some baba n plum cakes
n stopped at the streets for some kulhad chais
after riding on the old victorian buggies
and shooting coloured balloons
we devoured the tangy putchkas n tasty churmurs
next on our list was the metro and
the ride on the cycle richshaw
we snacked on the bengali chakna
and after a long drive in the yellow bulldozer
munched on the savoury egg roll
the calcutta paan called it a day
we all agreed we were serial eaters on the loose

Domenica

on an early sunday morning
the sun, sea and sand perform their wizardry,
the soft sand obeys the blue sea,
the sun commanding the show
does a shimmering dance on the waters,
the sea swells in happiness n rushes to meet the shores,
the waves' lather cleanses the earth,
the palms sway in acknowledgement ,
the bewildered eye captures nature's hocus pocus
calming the crazy urban mind.

Baa's Black Sheep

Every night after the sun went down
n we had had our early supper
we would cuddle up around our 'baa'
to get our dose of bed-time stories
'Baa' would tell us stories of all kinds
animal fables, folk tales and
fairy tales with perfect endings
she read these from a weekly column
in a local gujju newspaper
and recount them effortlessly
with varying expressions
her voice would carry every nuance of the tale
we all would listen to them with rapt attention
away we would be on a picturesque journey
until 'baa' sang ...kind of 'like the end of the rin tin tin'
and we sailed away into deep sleep

in a few years i had heard many
some i forgot , some were legendary
but i do remember when 'baa'
narrated yet another beautiful story
as she prompted the end of the fable
she melted away into the sky
my eyes opened moist from deep sleep
and realised this one would be my last!

Say Cheers!

a 30 ml surprise

a black label

a Double malt

his name is ‘Scotch’, obviously!

Berry Blast!

a sinful bite, a heavenly delight

it bursts in your mouth, spilling its juicy nectar

its soft red flesh dissolves, u want an encore!

u can't but indulge in this fruit, tossed in fluffy fresh cream

or dipped in a chocolate fondue...

winter casts a new spell

ends the long wait

the devil wears his green cap

‘n brings in the Minister of Sweet Temptation

Fly like an eagle..

floating in mid air; the cold wind brushing against my face

feeling the rush of flying high above, overlooking the snow capped mountains,

the curvy roads with occasional mountain springs flowing thru them

a moment of bliss and silence as I was gliding in the Himalayan sky

the pilot steering the parachute asked me if I was enjoying the flight…

‘yes u bet I did’ I sighed, as I placed my feet firmly back to the ground

__Crossing the Line___

Like every average student I cud confidently say

MATHS stood for Mentally Affected Teachers Harrasing Students

The subject was all about the crossing the line – the line between Pass and Fail!

The subject was a natural bore or the teachers made it so

The befitting maloo geniuses always ruled the crucial physics n math classes

While the students rocked their chairs and composed everlasting jokes,

Husband: Ayyo Mary which colour sari ure wearing?

Mary: Ello ..

Husband: ello ello…(disconnects the phone)

Mary to a tall girl in class: U need to imbrove your attitude…

another girl: mam she only improves by altitude

In Geometry I struggled with the ruler n compass

It encompassed my natural fear for the subject

And I welcomed some furious comments by loony teachers like

‘Even a blind person will tell u this is not a quadrilateral…’

Yes it was not quadrilateral it was a triangle.. but I had tried!

Another time..This is not an arc, u fibber! And she scribbled a remark in my notebook

No one before had knighted me as a ‘bluffmaster’..

At home my folks raised their eyebrows in doubt

In the end I did cross the line, With a flying seventy-two,

thanks to a certain looney teacher, who thought I was a fool but not a dumb ass

I said thank you for the consolation and passed!