Autophony

Delhi: streets broad and tree-lined, fabulous by day. Lonely in the dark.

Delhi: swanky green buses and sexy metro - medieval mindset.

In a queue one is only a candidate however big — or small.

However big the general becomes, he must — wash his own bottom.

There was a Man of Bhivpuri Road Who had never missed an episode Of any K-serial - serious or ethereal - That slothful Man of Bhivpuri Road.

There was an Old man of Badlapur Who received no one's imprimatur. He was very flabby And generally shabby - That ratty Old Man of Badlapur.

Mist-fresh from the hills - Bulbuls, butterflies and dew begin fairytales.

Chaturthi Dead on the road, overrun by a car, Mooshik Bappa rots - his intestines pulled out by crows, one leg up in the air as if to ward off flies and a dog attempting to piss over him, pus oozing from his tail as bacteria go about their work - a whole ecology. Panchami Morning Arti on Ganesh day - priest in a hurry, a lay worshipper and some stray onlookers who seem to have nothing better to do. It is late morning - lunch-cooking time say the society women. The men say nothing. Shashti Loudspeakers blare devotional music all day; society residents pass by on their holiday errands. One or two stop to perhaps throw a few flower petals on the idol and peek at the empty prasad-dish. Saptami Squabbles break out over the empty prasad dish. Ashtami Quick visits to private Ganpatis - sense of community, devotion and who is providing what in prasad. Navami Cultural program by children dancing to filmi music. A girl cries backstage about a tight Kathak dress. The audience claps religiously; e...

बान्द्रा की थी एक शहज़ादी जिसकी अदाएँ बग़दादी| पल्कें झुकाके लड़के भाग जाते ख़ौफ़नाक थी बान्द्रा की शहज़ादी|

There was an Old Man of Ankh-Morpork who ate Nanny Ogg's food with a fork. He thought he would snatch An island from Klatch - That rusty Old Man of Ankh-Morpork.

There was an Old Man of Titwala Who secretly practised Kabbalah. When he was not pensive He would get defensive - That porcupiny Old Man of Titwala.

There was a Lady of Khadavli Whose features were considered lovely. Her fangs were pearly white, Her scales were polished bright - That snaky Lady of Khadavli.

There was a Woman of Vangani Who pulled down trees of mahogany. She chopped them in pieces To give to her nieces - That elephantine Woman of Vangani.

There was a Young Woman of Vasind Who had to be chained during a wind. No matter what she ate An ant would have more weight - That formicine Young Woman of Vasind.

There was an Old Man of Asangaon Who migrated there from Girangaon. When all the mills closed He ate his own clothes - That moth-eaten Old Man of Asangaon.

There was an Old Lady of Karjat Whose chief consumption was of sharbat. She sang a libretto In rising falsetto - That nightingale-voiced Old Lady of Karjat.

गिरने दो दीवारों को ताकि नए आशियाने बनेंगे| धूल में मिल जाने दो उन्हें ताकी गुज़रे ह्ंगाम बीत जाएँगे|| खन्ड़रों को गिराकर एक नया दौर बनाएंगे तुम और हम| गिरने दो दीवारों को ताकि नए आशियाने बनेंगे||

Send me no messages that are not poems - I have no space for prose. Godawful Poetry Fortnight

There was an Old Lady of Diva Who came from the Khanate of Khiva. She'd do nothing all day But hop and jump and play - That kittenish Old Lady of Diva.

There was a Gentleman of Kopar Who was something of a landloper. He was quite impudent And also imprudent - That puppyish Gentleman of Kopar.

There was an Old Woman of Mumbra Who shifted her home out of Mumbra. She would have been staying If it rhymed with something - That migratory Old Woman of Mumbra.

There was an Old Woman of Shahad Who could see as far as Ahmedabad. She worked in the police Starting as a novice - That eagle-eyed Old Woman of Shahad.

There was a Gentleman of Shelu Whose nose had around it a halo. He had nothing to hide So he bore it with pride - That aquiline Gentleman of Shelu.

There was a Man of Ambivali Who smiled quite beatifically. He kicked like an ostrich When he had barber's itch - That struthious Man of Ambivali.

There was an Old Man of Kanjur Marg Whom his colleagues deemed to be a narg*. Opportunistic And capitalistic - That vulturous Old Man of Kanjur Marg. * Not A Real Gentleman.

There was a Gentleman of Neral Whose promises were quite ephemeral. He entered politics And baffled his critics - That weaselly Gentleman of Neral.

There was a Young Man of Ambernath Who left behind him an aftermath. So they put him in jail Till he grew very frail - That mothballed Young Man of Ambernath.

There was an Old Woman of Bhandup Whose principles never let her stoop. She made herself a gown Of soft feathery down - That goosy Old Woman of Bhandup.

There was an Old Man of Sandhurst Road To whom gratitude is at first owed - For he and his ratsnake The city pest-free make - That ophidian Old Man of Sandhurst Road.

There was an Old Man of Currey Road Who possessed a rare and furry toad. He fed it on fennel And built it a kennel - That batrachian Old Man of Currey Road.

There was a Young Man of Thakurli Who played on a bamboo shoot murli - So he'd not fall asleep While a-herding his sheep - That ovine Young Man of Thakurli.

There was a Young Man of Chinchpokli Whose staple diet was dal-dhokli. Much wealth he would donate To the unfortunate - That lion-hearted Young Man of Chinchpokli.

There was a Young Lady of Parel Who resolved to travel to Panvel. But thirty days after She's not gone much further - That sluggish Young Lady of Parel.

What gives writers more joy than to see their books of poetry sold out?

Black-headed munia - living proof that happiness comes in small bundles.

Mango and jamun trees in a green monsoon sea - barren, yet fertile.

There is much wonderful music on this earth - the sweetest is silence.

Prudence cries restraint - but the heart's poem machine runs out of control.

Swine flu masks - just the most ridiculous of all the ones we put on.

There was a Man of Vidyavihar Who thought he was the Russian czar. He wore a bearskin hat And imported seal fat - That ursine Man of Vidyavihar.

तुम आओगी, तुम आओगी, तुम्हारे ख़यालों में मुन्तज़िर आँखें किनारे के तलाश में भटकती लहरों के जैसे मुन्तज़िर आँखें फूलों के ख़ुश्बू में ख़ुमार होकर उन्हें ढूँढते हुए यहाँ वहाँ भटकती मन्डराती हुई एक एक तितली के जैसे मुन्तज़िर आँखें पहाड़ों से उतरकर, खेतें पार करकर, साहिल कहाँ साहिल कहाँ सागर के तलाश में दौड़ती हुई नदी के जैसे मुन्तज़िर आँखें समन्दर से उठकर हवाओं से, आसमानों से ज़मीन का राह पूछकर इस तलाश में आए हुए काले बादल के जैसे मुन्तज़िर आँखें हज़ारों साल एक ही मक़सद में ख़ुद को जलाते हुए कायनात को पार सूरज के तलाश में आए दुमदार तारे के जैसे मुन्तज़िर आँखें तुम्हारी तारीफ़ के लिए बेआल्फ़ाज़ खड़ा हुआ यह ख़ाना बदोश कान्हा की इबादत में बैरागी मीरा के जैसे मुन्तज़िर आँखें

An argent surface or bottomless blackness - what is your mood, river?

जाने अनजाने बस बन गया है यह रिश्ता, गानों अफ़सानों से बुन लिया है यह रिश्ता, पर आज डोर टूटा - आज मैं ख़ाना बदोश पतंग मैं तो गुम जाऊँगा, तुम्हें बख़्शे फ़रिश्ता! ﺟﺎﻧﮯ ﺍﻧﺠﺎﻧﮯ ﺑﺲ ﺑﻦ ﮔﻴﺎ ﮨﮯ ﻳﻪ ﺭﺷﺘﺎ ﮔﺎﻧﻮﮞ ﺍﻓﺴﺎﻧﻮﮞ ﺳﮯ ﺑﻦ ﻟﻴﺎ ﮨﮯ ﻳﻪ ﺭﺷﺘﺎ ﭘﺮ ﺁﺝ ﮈﻭﺭ ﭨﻮﭨﺎ - ﺁﺝ ﻣﻴﮟ ﺧﺎﻧﺎ ﺑﺪﻭﺵ ﭘﺘﻨﮓ !ﻣﻴﮟ ﺗﻪ ﮔﻢ ﺟﺎﻭﻧﮕﺎ ، ﺗﻤﮩﻴﮟ ﺑﺨﺸﮯ ﻓﺮﺷﺘﺎ (Urdu written with the help of Unicode Urdu Text Convertor:- http://tabish.freeshell.org/u-trans/uconvert.html , Hindi written with the help of Gopi's Hindi Unicode Convertor:- http://www.higopi.com/ucedit/Hindi.html )

There was a Gentleman of Sion Who needed a shoulder to cry on. When could not find one He leaned on his son - That pigeon-hearted Gentleman of Sion.

There was a Young Lady of Nahur To whom many men pledged their amour. But she escaped them all By jumping o'er a wall - That feline Young Lady of Nahur.

There was an Old Woman of Mulund Who rarely ever suffered a wound. Her skin was so thick That no pin could prick - That pachydermous Old Woman of Mulund.

There was an Old Woman of Kalva Who doted on Karachi halva. She'd empty a shop Before she would stop - That wolfish Old Woman of Kalva.

There was a Man of Dombivali Who was lanky unnaturally. His body was twiglike And his limbs were threadlike - That spidery Man of Dombivali.

There was an Old Man of Vikhroli Whose conduct was considered lowly He wore seven gold chains But was bereft of brains - That peacocky Old Man of Vikhroli.

There was an Old Lady of Kalyan Who preferred everything be cyan. She said that it calmed her During stormy weather - That rabbity Old Lady of Kalyan.

There was a Young lady of Kurla Who used obscure words like mandorla. She'd prattle on and on Till the sun was long gone - That parroty Young Lady of Kurla.

There was a lady of Matunga Whose battle-cry was 'Cowabunga!' She'd butt conversations And cite reservations - That caprine Lady of Matunga.

There was an Old Woman of Masjid Whose Zodiac was rather cuspid. Part Sagittarian, Part vegetarian - That amphibian Old Woman of Masjid.

(This is the same poem as the one in Hindi below.) Neither I said a word, Nor she. She came, Removed the ring And kept it on the table. Those ear-rings Which I had given Last Diwali, Those too. Neither I said a word, Nor she. I ordered Two cups of tea, Mine plain, Hers as usual - Without sugar, Without milk. All the letters That I had written, Tied with a Frail string. That mobile phone - cadeau d'amour - With its box. Neither I said a word, Nor she. The tea came We drank I paid the bill. She opened her handbag Kept twenty-two rupees Of her share And left. Neither I said a word, Nor she.

ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने| बस वह आयी, अंगूठी उतारी और मे‍ज़ पर रख दी| वे कान की बालियाँ जो मैंने पिछले दिवाली को दी थी, वे भी| ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने| मैंने दो प्याले चाय मंगवायी, मेरी सादी, उसकी हमेशा जैसी - बिना शक्कर, बिना दूध| वे सब ख़त जो मैंने लिखे, एक नाज़ुक धागे से बान्धकर| वह मोबाइल फ़ोन - तोहफ़ा ए ईश्क़ - डिब्बे के साथ| ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने| चाय आयी, हमने पी, मैंने बिल भरा| उसने हैन्डबैग खोला अपने हिस्से के बाईस रुपये रखे और चली गयी| ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने|

There was a Gentleman of Boisar Who if anyone called out "Hoy Sir!" He'd feel rather ashamed And easily be tamed - That sheepish Gentleman of Boisar.

There was a Young Lady of Vangaon Who went to bed daily at sundown. She would wake up early And eat rice and barley - That columbine Young Lady of Vangaon.

There was a Man of Dahanu Road who devised of trading a new mode. when others were selling His fortunes were swelling - That bearish Man of Dahanu Road.

There was a Young Man of Kelve Road Who studied the national railway code. Early in the morning He'd raise a false warning - That larky Young Man of Kelve Road.

There was an Old Man of Umroli Whose appearance was very holy. Of his devotees' cash He made quite a big stash - That spongy Old Man of Umroli.

There was a Young Man of Charni Road Whose proposals always were vetoed - When his bosses would shout And threaten to clout. That cowed the Young Man of Charni Road.

There was a Lady of Marine Lines Who subsisted chiefly on green vines. With radishes to munch She'd spend hours at lunch - That ruminant Lady of Marine Lines.

There was a Man of Mahalakshmi Who was blessed by the Goddess Lakshmi. He never lost a bet To the thoroughbred set - That horsy Man of Mahalakshmi.

There was an Old Woman of Nerul Who was as slender as a slide-rule. She would pass through a hose Without hurting her nose - That serpentine Old Woman of Nerul.

There was a Man of Lower Parel Who thought he would organise a sale. He sold canine shampoo Three for the price of two - That dogged Man of Lower Parel.

There was a Man of Elphinstone Road Who forever left his lawn unmowed. He raised garden lizards Which he sold to wizards - That saurian Man of Elphinstone Road.

There was an Old Woman of Grant Road Who carried about her no scant load - Seven lorry tyres And six miles of wires - That jumbo Old Woman of Grant Road.

There was a Man of Nala Sopara Who visited the Masai Mara. He thought that the wildlife Was better than his life - That wormy man of Nala Sopara.

There was an Old Man of Mira Road Who'd immigrated there from Dahod. He wore striped pyjamas And prowled around dramas - That tigerish Old Man of Mira Road.

There was a Gentleman of Thane On whom all the girls would mar jane, He'd a heart made of gold, He was kind to the old - That human Gentleman of Thane.

There was a Young Man of Dahisar Who could withstand excessive pressure. He strode like a Goliath, juggernaut, behemoth - That mammoth Young Man of Dahisar.

There was an Old Woman of Naigaon Who thought that her era was bygone. She would crow about days When men had better ways - That corvine Old Woman of Naigaon.

There was a Man of Matunga Road Whose neighbours were very much harrowed. He would lash out at whim At those who approached him - That waspish Man of Matunga Road.

There was a Man of Jogeshwari Who told his wife never to worry If he fed upon nuts And cigarette butts - That squirrelly Man of Jogeshwari.

There was a Woman of Goregaon Who'd daily drink one Blue Curacaõ. She had it with oilseeds Mixed together with reeds - That bird-brained Woman of Goregaon.

There was an Old Man of Ghatkopar Who was considered a no-hoper. He would run for cover At the first rain-shower - That sheepish Old Man of Ghatkopar.

There was a Young Lady of Palghar Who said that the signs did not augur For her to go out And wander about - That mousy Young Lady of Palghar.

There was a Man of Kandivali Who was pugnacious naturally. He was ready to fight For what he thought was right - That hawkish Man of Kandivali.

There was an Old Man of Saphale Who said, "Aga, atta kay zale?" So he climbed up a tree And ate mangoes for free - That simian Old Man of Saphale.

There was an Old Woman of Khar Road Who undertook to lay a tar road. She paved it with borax And sealed it with beeswax - That apian Old Woman of Khar Road.

There was an Old Man of Santacruz Who subsisted chiefly on cheap booze. He would square his shoulders To carry great boulders - That asinine Old Man of Santacruz.

There was a man of Ville Parle Who insisted on polite parley. He'd stubbornly refuse To tolerate abuse - That mulish man of Ville Parle. (Ville Parle is how Western Railway spells it)

Th' cottar in his clachan, Th' laird in his thane, All gang to th' same kirk, Th' God fer all is ain. Th' lochs and glens ay Alba, I likes them verra muckle. Th' firths and dales ay ma homeland I ken them syne I war a bairn. (In progress)

There was a Gentleman of Mahim Who would wake up when it was still dim. He would play music loud And potter about proud - That cocky Gentleman of Mahim.

There was an Old Man of Byculla Who found a celestial nebula. He watched many a night Till he found it all right - That owlish Old Man of Byculla.

There was a Gentleman of Virar, Whose conduct was considered bizarre. He bought heads of cattle And sold them by raffle - That bullish gentleman of Virar.

There was a Young Lady of Malad Who mainly ate organic salad - Fresh spinach and yam With taro leaf jam - That bovine Young Lady of Malad.

There was a Woman of Vasai Road, Who sold crustaceans on the high road. If little boys teased her It would not have pleased her - That crabby Woman of Vasai Road.

There was a Man of Borivali Who needed nothing much re-ally. he practised ahimsa And survived on hilsa - That fishy Man of Borivali.

There was an Old Man of Andheri Of whom all the butchers were wary. He stole their live chickens And left them some lemons That foxy Old Man of Andheri.

There was an Old Woman of Bandra Who was a right royal cassandra. She prophesied gloom And everyone's doom - That catty Old Woman of Bandra.

There was an Old Woman of Dadar Who thought she descended from Babar. She kept sixteen porters And roared at her daughters - That leonine woman of Dadar. [This is for Dadar (E)]

There was a Young Woman of Dadar Who set out to look for her father. But she sat up in bed And ate misal instead - That piggish Young Woman of Dadar. [This is for Dadar (W)]

There was a Man of Mumbai Central Who could not tell dorsal from ventral. He'd stand on his head When he slept on his bed - That batty Man of Mumbai Central.

There was an Old Man of Bhayander Who thought he would migrate Down Under. To carry his couch He sewed on a pouch - That marsupial Old Man of Bhayander.

There was an Old Man of CST Who shunned the trains and BEST. He travelled secretly, And very quietly - That pantherine old man of CST.

There was an Old Man of Vaitarna Who sat on an indefinite dharna. But he gave up his fast When his wife made breakfast - That hen-pecked Old Man of Vaitarna.

There was an Old Woman of Churchgate Who was worried about the Birth Rate. She's hand out a condom To people at random - That capricious Old Woman of Churchgate.

There was a Man of Oshiwara Who kept a small pet capybara. He fed it on leather Which they gnawed together - That rodent Man of Oshiwara.

There was an Old Man of Govandi Who ate fly eyes cooked in a handi. He preferred them runny And had them with honey - That ravenous Old Man of Govandi.

Monsoon seedlings sprout - my poems escape from their dry trap of silence.

One poem leaks from the dam, suddenly the reservoir's in tumult.