Jaspal never keeps time
he 
listens to chimes
not of the hourly clock
but of the human flock.
His mobile phone has a song
Hindi one as the tune nothing wrong
comes with my milk from afar
a place called Bidor not in his car.
He motors through in his bike
a milk can tied in a strike
glides through my lane so late
makes me wait near the gate.
It so happens and happened many a time
if not wrong in scores of times
I would walk in tired of waiting throughout
a bonanza for the monkeys out and out.
The day before I opened my door
lo! saw the big old monkey on the floor
had my milk tied in a packet in hand
had removed partially the rubber band.
It was sipping the milk through the opening small
I tried to drive him off with a cane not small
it made faces and sat there unperturbed in ease
after a time it walked away throwing the milk in a tease.
That be the fate of my milk on the day before
all my tricks fail in frightening him to the core
my containers serve no purpose in all
every day I have to be on alert when Jaspal calls.
Meenas Poems 