Monday, April 2, 2012


This is a parody of a favourite poem of mine: 'If' by Rudyard Kipling.. And 'If' you haven't read it already, what are you waiting for?!


If you can hold your bark when all men about you
Are losing their mind and taking it out on you
If you can wag your tail when all men spurn you
Yet make allowance for their spurning too
If you can wait, and not be tired by waiting
As long as it takes for your master’s return
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating
Just keep on licking in the hope they’ll learn

If you can listen to the sorrows of your master
Nor judge him, but be his constant friend
If you can save him from hurt and disaster
Nor expect a reward or the favour returned
If you can bear to hear the harsh words spoken
To you for every deed misunderstood
Or watch your precious horde of old bones broken
Nor bite them back or speak a word

If you can leap or send a ball spinning
And run for every stick pitched out
And catching it, run back to the beginning
Restart the game, nor tire out
If you can force you heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your master long after they are gone
And so hold on when there’s nothing in you
Except his voice, which tells you, “Hold On”

If you can live in streets, nor lose your virtue
Or walk with humans nor lose the canine touch
If neither sticks nor stones can hurt you
Yet a master’s unkind glance prove too much
If you can chase a car every other minute
For sixty blocks worth of distance run
Yours is the Earth, and all smells in it
And-which is more- you’ll be a Dog my pup!


Will forging it find it
Will finding it forge it
Will describing it bind it
Will binding it describe it
Will naming yours frame it
Will naming mine contain it
Will history texts proclaim it
Will politics betray it
Will prose and verse explore it
Will no one ever probe it
Will my death absolve it
Will all your deaths confirm it
Will sticks and stones then hurt it
Or only words torment it
Who am I that can stand to wonder who I am?

Take a Breath

Take a breath and know with you
A billion breaths are taken
Think a thought and know right then
A billion words are spoken
Say a word and know the while
Countless ears are listening
Live a moment knowing that
A billion lives are living

Stories of Shifting Sand

Written for a Poem a Pic Contest in which it won 2nd Place. 
Here's the video prompt that had been provided to us:
‘You’ve got a friend’ By Ilana Yahav (A sand artist who creates a series of images by shifting sand around with her fingers on a glass surface)

Stories of Shifting Sand

To paint a picture in the sand
Nor halt the waves’ rampage
To live this transcendental life
As if nothing could change

Eternity that our minds compass
Fragility that it deals in
Who’s playing with the Sands of Time
Trifling with our existence?

At one moment the Sun bursts out
Whose hand just drew it’s rays?
The next moment the clouds pour forth
Nor shelter come when we pray

Success does dog our every step
Until we find the pit
They say one should not laugh too hard
Lest tears besiege is next

Peace marches now go hand in hand
With riots in the next state
We wait in terror to mark God’s land
While Science colonizes Space

In sleep as in the midst of dreams
Whose eyes are watching ours?
Try trap this impudent soul
Who likes to thus play God

Who’s playing with the Sands of Time
The Sands of our existence?
Let’s catch this player in the act
Demand an explanation

But he just turns and smiles and says
The fault lies not in me
I sweep the floor, by candlelight
Nor paint the sand that breathes

The sand that breathes be you my love
Here today, gone tomorrow
Yet worlds will still keep going round
Moulding new joys and sorrows

Close your eyes and now envision
Close blackness all around
No sight not smell nor feel nor touch
No space nor even sound

And this be no strange fantasy
But what awaits each one
The tree from which your life fruit falls
Will continue thriving on

Yet eyes still open, fruits still bloom
Sand cannot be rid of
Another time you’d open your eyes
With your loved one looking on
That moment if be worth the wait
The shift in time and changing fate

The moment that no sand can touch
Nor erring hand or paint brush hurt

That moment and such moments to come
Define your life and death confront

And even the shift in fickle sand
Would matter not if you once held my hand.

Ode to the death of a favorite phone

Another parody! This one's a reworking of 'Ode to the Death of a favourite Cat' by Thomas Grey ( memory of my cracked iPhone screen courtesy my dog Kola, written, as usual, in class. The horrors narrated below transpired when we were returning from the Pujo Pandal at night & Kola tackled us in welcome, causing me to drop the delicate phone (Stupid impractical fingerhold-less phone with a fragile screen, which costs a fortune to mend to boot) causing it to smash its face on the asphalt)

Ode to the Death of a Favourite Phone 

T'was on a dark and gloomy night
That America’s costliest art had mired
The pretty phone that blew,
Silliest of the canine kind
Boka Kola got aligned
And jumped up from below

Her conscious tale her joy declared
The dark round face, the warty beard
The mud tracked on her paws,
Her coat that with the auroch vies
Her ears of jet, and soulful eyes
She saw and set her course

Still had she stay’d, but midst the tide
Two loved forms were seen to glide
Of family Mukherjee,
Their dresses colourful Puja sheen
Through richest crimson did the scene
Betray a high-tech gleam

The hapless sis with wonder saw
A whisker first and then the dog;
Pulling an anxious face,
She stretched in vain to reach device
What teenage heart can tech despise,
What dog’s averse to mess?

Presumptuous maid! With looks intent
Desperate she stretched, down she bent
Nor knew the gulf between
(Malignant fate sat by and smiled)
Her slippery tips the phone beguiled
It tumbled and did spin

Eight cracks emerging on its hood
It shattered, evoking all tech Gods
Some speedy aid to send.
No iTunes came, nor Apple stirred
Nor cruel Jobbs nor Stevie heard
Product callback has no trend

From hence you foolhardies, undeceived,
Know one false step is nev’r retrieved
And so with caution discern
Since all that tempts your wandering sight
And tech fetish is defective trite
And all that shatters, an iPhone.

Sailing in Benzyl Ethanol


-A Parody of 'Sailing to Byzantium' by William Butler Yeats, written when I was bored during class.. If you haven't read the original, here it is:  
Dedicated to Ladies Night (free drinks all night for ladies!) at an old haunt of ours.. x]

That is no night for old men. Or young.
Spirits in one another's glass, chicken on the table
Those hiccupping generations- at their song
The waiter-falls, bottles rouse the rabble
Fish, drink or fowl, consumed all night long
Whatever is brought up, out is Gross
Caught in the senseless tinkle of all tankards
Monuments of Stinking drunkards

An aged wine is such a classy thing
A dazzling red on the lip, unless
Bacardi Vodka would greater solace bring
Soothe the soul, your heart caress
Some say it even helps in the studying
Constructions of its own convenience
Wherefore we may escape guilt to reach our goal
The damned night of Benzyl Ethanol

Warning: Benzyl Ethanol isn't really an edible alcohol. Don't try this at home