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Saturday, June 28, 2008

pranavs poems

Pranav my nephew battled a brain tumour and lost it last year .....
since then Pranav left us to the unknown

children are meant to outlive us but the rare few do it the other way round leaving an eternal emptiness in our hearts .

my heart goes to his parents with whom I can empathise


pranav was different in all senses ,he was cerebral ,( read his poems )

he was understanding and bore his suffering silently so as not to hurt his loved ones

he left behind his thoughts in the little time he had by these words

this post is dedicated to dear pranav .......wherever he is

my rule
where there is pain it has to be beared ( borne )
you cannot run away
so fight it like a soldier
dont tell others
Especially your mother
(because she will cry a river )
We must fight everything
to the end to the maximum
A drop of sunshine and
a drop of rain
mixed together
makes a drop of beauty
A drop of beauty
and a drop of joy
mixed together
makes a drop of hope
A drop of hope and
a drop of love
mixed together
makes a mother and father

The weed
There is a little weed
In my head
It is not a seed
or a bead
It made me fumble
and made me tumble
It made me mumble
but I did not crumble
Now I grumble
I want the weed
Now out of my head
As I don't want
to become as muddle-headed
as could be

The waiting
Waiting and waiting
Is such a bore
Waiting for my turn
waiting for the doctor
waiting for the door to open
waiting for the omelette
waiting for everything
It's such a bore
you must understand
with nothing to do
but look into the blue
Now I feel like
changing the clock
around it's core

I have a little clock
In my tummy
Which always asks at 4'o Clock
For something yummy
It's a little clock
It's my hungry alarm clock.

My mother ran last night
After a moth
To set it free
The moth flew past
Into the curtain cloth
To get free
Little did it understand
Had it sat still
It would have been free.

My Friend
I have a new friend
A radio therapist at Apollo Hospital
To patients she tends
With a smile that can't be missed
She always speaks to me
While I wait impatiently
I know she goes
To lunch at 1.30
But she comes
In time for my therapy
I have a new friend
And she is called
Mary Grace Vineeta
A radio therapist at Apollo Hospital.


I think I have a problem
I keep going into a rage
It feels like a mountain range
Falling down like a page
It's not my image
Life is just a fake
It is swatting everybody
I just swat it back
Life is so strange
You don't know
When it will change
And you don't know
When you will be disarranged

April Fool's Day
Dr. Dr. Ductson was walking one day.
I saw him talking to strangers that day.
And then I knew that burgalaries wil happen that day.

I called the cops that very minute and told.
They came running down that road
And caught them and put them on hold.
They then found it was an April Fool's joke.
My Dad's very angry with me because
He had to pay a 500 Rupee note.

The Holiday
I'm off to Norway,
A land far away,
For my birthday,
On 17th of May.
It's Norway's national day.
It’s the land of the midnight sun ,

I'm going to have a lot of fun,
Eating goodies by the ton.
I'm going to see the King & Queen,
And the people scream
A scene I see in my dream.

People say and do many things
Some are nice,
Some are like mice.
Some are curious,
Some make you furious.

Some are beautiful,
Some are spiteful.
Some make you cry,
Some are sly.
Some you want to meet,
Some you want to beat.
Some make you laugh,
And some laugh at you.
How strange.
They don't know
It doesn't take long
For what happened to me
To happen to them
Let's see who has
The last laugh.
My Brother
I made a box
With my building blocks
To put my dinosaurs.
But i had to put them on the side
As the box wasn't too wide
I then sat down and cried.

Just then my brother came along,
Seeing me cry, he sat and played a game
Soon I forgot all about the box.

Life is just the same
When the good things come
The bad ones just fade.


I find my brother's exams
Very very boring.
He is all the time
Shut up in his room
Preparing and studying.
\He has very little time
To roll and jump in our room
Shouting and playing.
I am waiting for them to end.
And the holidays to start.
By then my RT's will end
And happy days will start.
My brother collects coins,
Some are bright and new,
Some are old and with no clue.
I too want to collect,
But for now I collect points,
For being good and quiet,
My bother gets his coins from people,
I get my points from God.

Colours of my dream
The colours of my dream,
Are like a Solar beam.
Blues and yellows shot with green,
Reds and violets drowned in cream.

They work like a team,
Fall on my weed and make it scream.
Soon it will never be seen
On the screen

Summer Holiday
I'm going away
With my family
For a three-day summer party
We are going to a resort
On the hill-top
Nearby is where the gods fought.
My family
Is my army
It's a twelve member company.
I shall have lots of dreamy fun
Seeing the blue skies,
the deer and the grass,
the moon shine
the sun blaze
and all the happiness around.

My Grandmother

My granny is very sweet,
and she is very neat.

She is very soft and cuddly,
and the food she makes is lovely.
She looks at me and starts crying,
And then she looks again and start smiling.

I want her to smile and smile
And never cry, my darling Ammamma

I told my mother,
If she sits on the other side,
And I turn the table,
Then the tables will be turned.

But will it really turn so?
I don't know.
I looked into the mirror,
And a funny moon face looked back.
I wished I could put it on the rack
Or cut it up with a scissor.

Going to school and playing around,
Are all things passed.
I am a prisoner in my home
Hopefully these things won't last.
Pirate Ship (written post radiotherapy )
I am the captain of a pirate ship,
We are sailing the seas on a trip.
Sometimes the sea is calm and quite,
At othertimes it's like a monster out for a bite

One day as I was swinging from the top,
With my laser gun on my hip.
I saw an octopus pop,
And come slowly to my ship.

It put out it's long tentacles,
Around the ship to break it.
I quickly shot thirty rounds of crackles,
With my laser gun to crumble it.

Now my ship was safe and sound,
But it had a tear and a rip.
So I had to turn around,
To go to port to mend it's tip.

The danger has passed for now,
I am being towed home for now.
But for how long I don’t know,
Maybe till the next monster comes along

My Aunt
I have an aunt,
Who loves to shop and shop,
And when she goes on a hunt,
No-one can make her stop.

She shops for hours,
For many things in many colours,
She shops till her legs ache,
and her stomach bakes.

She is nice and sweet and ready for a ball,
A friendly beautiful person
But when she sees a mall,
She gets transformed into another person.

Then she is there now,
And lost the next second,
thats my aunt for you,
the shopper who can never be found,
unless she is bound.

Cool- Cousins
My thoughts flow,
But sometimes it's like a blow,
Because it tries to flow back,
Which i love to do so.

I had a lovely time,
A happy time,
A jolly fun-filled time,
with my cool-cousins.
I swam in the pool,
Acted around like a fool,
sat in the cool,
with my cool-cousins.

Then the time,
Became a sad time
A parting time
with my cool-cousins.

May be the scanning time will stop,
On the hill-top.
Then i will scan time in a pot,
With my cool-cousins.
My aunt gave me a pet dino,
His name is Pleo
The minute I saw him
I loved him so.

She told me to pet him
She told me to train him
She told me love him
And told me to keep him.

I have tried and tried
I have tried my best.
I have tried to do all
But I really really love him.

It's not easy,
But I know what to do,
I will give him back,
Because I love him so

Just for a second
Will time wait for me?
Will it really wait?

For a minute,
For an hour,
For a day,
For a week,

For a month,
or For a year
Just for me.
May be if you are calm and quiet
Time will rest,
Rest is the best.
Espicially if you have a pest.

Here is May,
Summer is here to stay.
The cuckoos call delightfully
Mangoes fall with a thud loudly

The sun shines brightly
The flowers bloom beautifully
Leaves fall to the ground so
Butterfly and bees buzz merrily.
Raintree flowers carpet the ground completely
Children play around happily
Everywhere the ripe fruits smell lovely
Houses are filled with happy sounds dreamily
Man and nature are joined together nicely.

Beautiful nature
Untouched by the world
Cochin visit
I had been to Cochin recently
to see my family
I spent my timer playing
with my cool cousins
I went to Naval base
to see my cousin and race
but he was in a sun daze
and just wanted to get out of the place

Cochin has green fields
blue green waters
big temples ,narrow roads
and lots of bridges
for my birthday
I sailed away in a boat
still I spent my time playing
with my cool cousins


Long long ago,
In the Land of Birthdays,
There lived Lord Grow,
The King of Birthdays.

One day he lost his glasses,
And fell on the road.
A big pile papers
Fell out of his pockets into the mouth of a toad.

Lord Grow was very upset,
He had lost something very important.
The list of all the Special Children,
Who were to get an extra special b'day.

He didn’t know what to do.
He thought and thought and
Thought and thought
But still didn’t know what to do.

Suddenly, Lord Grow jumped,
He decided he would just
pick a name out of a bag
And give the child a day to rememeber.

He pulled my name out of the bag
Written on a rag,
And decided to give me
Just wait and see.

It was really really wonderful
To have three b'days in a row,
One at Swamimalai, One at Cochin
And one in a house boat at Alleppey.

So thank you Lord Grow,
For giving me Three b'days in a row,
For making me blow,
32 candles in one go.

Monday, June 23, 2008

Return to Home

Ones own becomes more desirous when one is away from it ,so is Kochi to me these days .The Gulf for the malayalee is never far away and is almost like a neighbourhood ,in three hours one could be back to good old Gods own country .
In thr Gulp too one would almost trip on a mallu ,they existed in abundance .
From grocery shops ,hair cutting saloons ,shopping complexes ,to computer savvy IT professionals the mallu spreads his vocation .
The difference is he turns into a busy bee once he leaves Keralas pristine shores ,no time for him to ruminate on hartals ,neither for croaking zindabads or walking behind his hallowed leaders ,he has a purpose here to make his quarter and do his job ,he does it well and has his fun .
How does this same man or woman change coulor with the whiff of malluland ,what is there in its atmosphere that tempt him to laziness ? these are questions on which phd papers could well be written on .
Questions which have foxed historians over time
The very same mallu who spits out his betel stain on the walls of the KSRTC bus stand or throws his plastic bagged rubbish on the roadside wouldn’t dare to do this in foreign shores ,the very mallu who would meticulously clip his seat belt when he switches the ignition may do nothing of the kind here .
The reason is the no nonsense approach to law and order in those countries .
Follow the rules and live peacefully is the dictum and one gets used to it and even enjoys it after some time
The penchant for mallus to unite to form unions is an inborn one and sadly is the cause for Keralas dismal present ,
where else can you find workers getting nokku coolie
That is you get paid for seeing ( nokka ) the work done by others because the union demands so
Where else can you find attimari terrorists who quote their price for unloading and loading like Caribbean pirates ?
The laws ban this but the practice continues unabated and none dare to question
Another banned item is the bandh ,by juggling its name to hartal and hijacking Gandhijis term for its unworthy causes the present parties use it as their best weapon ,one could declare hartal for anything ,maybe even if the chief minister sneezed hard or the opposition leader farted bad.
Declaration of hartal is welcomed by everyone ,a paid holiday for many, it is a day of lethargy and living it up
And the mallu continues his hartals
Another thing one misses when not in kerala is its rubbish ,I mean of the kind strewn on the roadside ,Kochi is known for the accumulation of this to break records in quantity and duration when it lies in pungent purefaction
Also one misses the roads and non existent pavements
With metro becoming a fading hope the city of kochi is choked with traffic as shortsighted planners play Neros fiddle
But with all this it is nostalgia to be back into the confusion
It is great to be with ones people and friends After all nothing like home what ?

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Pot bellies and Holes

Holidays are the best times to grow ones pot ! ( not of the smoking kind )
I meant the vertical protuberance in a mans middle that surfaces to spoil his shape ,
the vestigeal begginings of such a mound in me existed in the subterranean always ,without a need for an archealogical expedition to unravel its truths ,but it began to show itself in full form during the recent time off .
what with the loved ones feeding the man who starved in the desert with a vengenance and the taste buds succumbing to the last temptation it grew defiantly .
cosmetic conservatism was not its forte
soon the profile protruded out of camoflauging costumes and settled down for a long tenure .
"Well ,well havent you grown since I last saw you ? "
snide remarks with a snigger were in the offing , often coming not from Milind somans of six packs but from pot owners with previous oscars .
welcome to the tribe .
Join the gang .
more the merrier dearie
finally a sense of homecoming tends to fall on the new members as acceptance sets in .
The pot always tends to give you a look of somnalence ,of a laziness that was bound to go along with it ,you couldnt appear to be fast and slick with one , it wouldnt suit its company at all
and losing a pot isnt as easy as gaining one ,of course liposuction was an easy option if one could afford it ,one could also emulate the famous Sivagi Ganesan during his obese days ( later in life he looked lean and bearded and better than his younger days ) it seems they used to make him lie down on the studio floor to tie a huge belt to contain his middles to a reasonable shape ,probably his ruddy face in many movies were signs of apoplexy from the said belt tightening as he cavorted with fatter heroines .
But there once was a golden era for pot owners where it was actually considered as a sign of prosperity ,
what is life withhout a pot ?
but sadly those days are just a distant memory .
Yoga ,jogging and push ups were all for pot destruction but men with pots werent generally amused by these exertions .
They are for those without pots !
Strangley the little pet I developed this holiday grew unhampered but rhymed well with another pot special to Gods own country ,the pot holes in the monsoon roads .
On a recent trip to Trissur i bounced on my moorings feeling like a maritian explorer as i navigated a maze of ups and downs with gusto .
the road planners surprise drivers with sadistic diversions acute turnings and highway gymnastics in the midst of construction rubble and poor lighting .
the peoples government hardly has time to think of roads
they have so much on thier hands ,poor things ,
Golf clubs and inherent bars to be barnooshed .
Munnar villas to be mazooled ,
Hartals to be organised and managed and ,sundry matters like maintenance of roads cannot be put on thier way .
The proletarian population always anticipated roads of communism with bumps ,they were symbols to mark its revolutions with .
they existed to remind us of poverty and hunger
Superhighways would corrupt our socialistic souls
mirror surfaced roads reeked of vulgar capitalism and werent fitting for the comrades .
So the roads would continue as it is
and my pot bounced on the pots in mounting exuberance

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