Strewn

Idiosyncratic days
Fly in fly out
The clock ticks
With a straddle around its bow

Lucid I lie
Unde the candid sky
Waiting for winds of change
To liven my days and nights

pune weds

The trickling drops
Garnish earth grains
The abyss legitimately
Harbors nascent rains
The squirrels squeak
And playfully mate
As monsoon in a nuptial
Weds Pune

Like a veiled bride
She tarries on blind
The silver moonlight
Forbidden to encroach her confine
The courtship on cards
Rejuvenates her youth
Stalwart antagonists too
Forfeit without a feud

Zephyr …docile
Lingers…intrudes
Streets…shaken off its slumber
The response is crude
The mitigating market
Nonchalantly prognosticate
Incoming floods of
Succulent gothic and glaze

indian politics

Gather my country men



This ain’t no ordinary lesson



No raving Barbies, no ranting kens



Just a discourse on Indian rapscallions



Amen







Yet again .Mr. L.Yadav



Our local scum bag



Has gotten away



With his insidious tag



With Bihar assembly dissolved



Democracy stalled



The states on the dole



And he yet manages to brag







The RSS and the VHP



Flamboyantly crusade



Advanni endorses nascent policies



And BJP enervates



A fortnight later the platter



Is yet again flayed



As the shysters of NDA revert



Ayodhya gets back the freight







Manmohan Singh is busy convincing media



“Its he who governs”



Sonia in her staid accent



Manages to churn



Powerful rhetoric orations



Her Indian kids can’t learn



Endures left’s barbarism



And RJP’s tarrism



And Maneka’s and Varun’s familiarism



Yet UPA stays unburned







BHEL sell off gets scanty



Broadcast seconds to engage



But SRK meeting Sonia



Makes it to the FrontPage



Journalism punch lines



Razzle dazzle dotage



While political daily’s page 3 digests



Becomes the nations latest rage

fairytale part2(end to the ballad)

They say..



the hunter dignified



left the town



and them mystified



so long unacquainted



to heartbreaks t



hey had grown too vain



their fabric fake







now in the face



of misery



reeling from the



dreary mystery



they took to weeping



blaming hevens



and gradually



it dawned on them







so long they had prided



looks alone



jeered countenances



except their own



and now pale thin



with willowy eyes



they looked all



but dainty and nice







and when the season



changed again



spring bloomed



they dint refrain..



played with the girls



on the streets and plains



enjoyed the glee



and enjoyed the rains

fairytale..a ballad(part1)

Oh reader…what do you look for



A poem..a tale ..a dialogue??



Deliver..i will..the sort



That enslaves you…trot trot







There were two lassies



Jenny and jane



Brandishing beauty



And flowing manes



Merchants and shepheards



Drew to their lanes



Showered love and gold



But all in vain







Then came a hunter



Not thin not stout



With bows and arrows



But cupids drought



The bloke he was



Called nimrod of south



But at romance



Dense out an out







Now.. arrived the



Lovers tempest



For nuptials



mayhem and zest



The spring balls



And Wine fests



The country spun a web of its mushy thread







and when the streets saw



the ladies step down



kings offered their carriages



laid out their crowns



they clambered austere



or with a frown



tranquil they rode



to the lavish lounge







while in the fest they saw



the hunter stride



his nonchalance



appealed their pride



in an instant each decided



to be his wife



unaware he was also



the apple of the other’s eyes







in a weaks time



so intoxicated were they l



ove brewed ..then



passion flared



and rest is subject to guesswork raised



what on grapevine was heard



and what evidently remained







and so they met



to confess their love



to the hunter



and each other ..all above



then,



what erupted



was an inferno



like cannons



their furies flowed







its been three



decades since then



the haunted house



speaks of when



the wrath devoured



the two maidens



unblemished alone now



are the tales of the haven