Jaspal Calls.

Jaspal never keeps time

he milk 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.








Poetry thoughts


Fevers are so many in a row

viral being the most common

an ailment in a degree low

a reaction to infection in a summon.


Fevers of the mind are variant in a flow

examination calls for a fever too high

many suffer with a burning in a glow

a cause impossible to ascertain  in any buy.


Another category crosses my mind now

being the one of milk fever  of times

the nursing mothers experience in a blow

too much of a strain during the specific time.


Being said of the  illness prevalent  everywhere

there be many hidden and unforeseen  versions

feverishness  calls for a startling glare

being unknown they be real or feigned   creation









No Use Crying over Spilt Milk

No use crying over spilt milk

none the less no use to sulk

past is gone forever

wipe of  remnants  ever.


The days that are before

would  be worth about a crore

with that in mind keep going

enchanted by the smooth sailing.


The retrospection is a solace never

the fever and fret remind you ever

could be a lesson to learn in ways

learning never ends being  there always.


Not to be tied  greatly to the past

either be it glory or ignominy  in fast

forget the bygone in a quick stroke

otherwise you would be a broke.


Memory is short they say

could be a blessing in a way

nurturing an enmity  and ill feel

could rip you in a steal.








forgetfulness humour. Poetry

The Tea I Prepare

The duties I forget

the compulsive ones  most

that being the milk on the stove

it is the day to day routine

I sit reading through with concentration

or gazing through the window more concentrated

while the music  in the background plays rhapsodically

the milk boils and boils many a time

I sit unmoved in my place  lost in myself

the burnt smell emanates slowly

that is the alert generally  cautions me

I rush to see my milk  on the stove

there is no milk,  not even a drop

the  milk pan almost charred  lies burnt

this is not on one or two occasions

but being throughout my life  with few exceptions

I look up the attic straining my neck

see  milk pans in a row  shapeless and black

the milk bill escalates  two folds and three folds

I stand answerable to my husband

who frowns at me  but lets me off  with that alone

as he is so fond of the tea milk pours over.I prepare all these days.

devotion Enrichment fanatic Poetry

The Real Enrichment.

Happen to see in temples

happen to see them these days

happen to see them in quick succession

with piradosham, pournami and Thaipoosam

the gallons of milk  and curd

litres of honey and cane juice

pounds of abishekam rice and turmeric powders

all poured on the Deities

the overflow of these goes  out

through the drains in full flow

a measure to please the Lord

a method to appease Him

a follow up of devotion  in another form

the breaking of hundred thousand coconuts

all they say is an obeisance  to the Lord

all through the days of a genre  called auspicious ones

an illustration of their  piety enumerated in these rituals

a fervour fanatic and exaggerated  to the maximum

not I dissuade any from their beliefs

but  at the same time others  perceive

hundreds  of thousand children are without food

roam the streets begging  with salutations

and they sleep on the pavements

through rain and sun without shelter

could they be given a thought a little

the Gods would not resent or reprimand

best they would smile happily in their sanctum

feeling joyful as their children have found food.

This could be the real enrichment and exaltation


The Milk is White

The milk is white
very much white
it is just white
not creamy white
nor dense white
it is transparent white
translucent white
watery white
more water in sight
milk out of sight.
water in milk

Actions Poem


Appeasing the Gods has been from yore.
Rituals differ according to the course.
Gods stay alone under the roof
as a means to ward of nature’s hoofs.

The roofs undergo a periodical update
with consecrations and extensions to date
aligning it to modern structural designs
decorating the premises to suit his signs.

Happen to see lot of eyes closed and praying
when gallons of milk was poured with a beaming
pride and demeanor on the heads of the deities
attempting to appease the divine dignitaries.

My eyes did not remain closed for long
as they perceived a child singing a song
on the roads of cities with a broken hood
crying for a dime which could buy her food.

Waking up from reverie found all hands folded
trying to find the sublime in the closeted
while the real divine, the hungry child, walks around
seeking alms to appease her hunger by going through the surround..

hungry child

Age desire Experience Lesson Life Looks Love Theory thoughts

A Deal

Eat vegetables calls the father.

Drink fruit juice  pleads the mother.

Take cereals for breakfast shouts the father.

Have a cup of milk compels the mother.

The six-year-old has a lot to bother.

She prefers chips and muffins altogether.

She looks beseechingly at her father.

She turns lovingly at her mother.

Her eyes express her desire rather.

Would she have her choice? a pointer.

Never would she we gather.


Actions Divine Solidarity subscriptions thoughts Wisdom Wish

An Entreaty

Milk is poured on the deity,

To keep everyone happy,

Yogurt is poured on the deity,

To make everyone live in gaiety,

Tender coconut water is poured on the deity,

To bring about a lot of sanity,

Sandal paste is poured on the deity,

To usher in a realm of piety,

Honey is poured on the deity,

To facilitate a spontaneity,

If only these things are given to the needy,

They would live in a blissful solidarity,

This is a fervent  entreaty,

This is an appeal in an entity,

That would take care of the have-nots fundamentally.