Rome Was Not Built In One Day

Rome was not built in one day,
I know it,
The garden was also not built in one day.
It underwent
stages of transformation;

1st it was a plot
with some swings,
we used to play,
the big boys broke them,
and in summers,
cricket they used to play,
in the monsoons,
(a pond),
swimming and sail paper boating
they used to play.

Then after y-e-a-r-s
(the garden predates me)
they decided to build it,
an elaborate thing,
A jogger’s park,
a nana-nani park,
a children’s park,
all in front of my house.
With a huge ornamental piece of grass in the centre
all empty, (why)

1st they cultivated it,
different kinds of grass,
Different kinds of flowers,
sometimes beautiful,
then suddenly! All yellow
Now they want to turn the centre
into a badminton court
Rome was not built in one day,
I know it,
The garden was also not built in one day.
(still not ready)


A small plot of land
Many people
Many ideas
Some religious
(religion was kept at bay,
The garden is a place to play)
Some politicians,
Lots of time



Whatever it is,
better it is,
or else we still wouldn’t play,
In summers,
cricket they would play
in the monsoons,
swimming and sail paper boating
they would play.




My country
B
I
G
Piece of land

L O T S of time…

Mango

When I pass by the kitchen I smell sweet hay,
As I enter the kitchen, the smell intensifies.
This smell comes from a basket full of hay
In which are embedded scrumptious mangoes.
I move towards the basket and put the hay aside,
And remove a ripe yellow mango.
It is as warm as a chick.
I wash it with ice water and remove the hay stuck to it.
The entire room is filled with its aroma.
I then take a knife and begin to slice it.
It is orangish yellow, looks very pretty and alluring.
Then I dig my teeth into the soft fleshy fruit
And pull it off its skin;
Into my mouth.
Ah! It is sour.
Tuck! It’s sweet, sour.
I begin to take small bites and suck it within my mouth.
The sweet, sour taste is tickling.
Yum! It melts into my mouth.

doggies

ALL THEIR DAYS


Maze

Right, right, now straight,
a little left, now straight,
a weird curve, now straight,
careful, careful,
I can’t hurt any of them,
I am walking through a maze,
of doggies.

Oh! I am home.
They are safe.
(Actually, I am safe, relief!)


A nap

Let’s sleep.
Oh! How can I sleep?
The competition has just begun,
Patchy is at his best today,
Tom is catching up.
How could I have missed this melody?
The barking competition!!
I must just sit still,
and listen to the great musical competition.
Bravo Patchy!
Good barking.
Tommy needs practice.


Dedication

It’s 7.30 in the morning,
I’ve got up at 5.00 to be here on time,
I can hardly sit,
It’s so sleepy.

But they, they are attentive,
as ever,
They attend every lecture.
English, history, physics, politics
You name it,
and they know it.

They come here,
in large numbers,
in any situation,
whether they have the most terrible disease, wound, broken leg, cut, scratch, flees…

These are the real dedicated Kalina Campus loyalists.
the Kalina Campus doggies.

Starved

The aunty with the big hat has come in.
Doggies are chasing her Auto.
Happily, anxiously.
She has brought lots of milk and
glucose biscuit for them.
Does that daily.
Small girls in ragged clothes distribute it.

The street children look upon.

Veterinary cafes

Veterinary cafes


This brewing pot of success,
everything is glittering, growing
This is Mumbai.
There are big roads,
On them are big cars,
And on the sides are big towers,
big malls, big, all big.

And on them,
are veterinary cafes.
big, these are also big,
big in size, big in numbers,
big in customer list,
Crows, cows, dogs, cats and flies
these are their regular visitors.

In a city, where
everything is glittering, growing,
where slums are considered a blot
on the face
and uprooted,
veterinary cafes are flourishing.

Happy eating,
veterinary cafes, a gift
from the city to its
animal citizens.

Coupon punching machine

The absence of functional railway coupon punching machines in Mumbai


Mumbai is an overpopulated metro in a rush. And its railways have the highest passenger density of any urban railway system in the world. Hence it is an extremely tedious and demanding task to travel by these overloaded railways- packed with men as if they were cattle. The battle, however, begins with trying to acquire a ticket to these railways. One has to stand in a never-ending queue or else one might try to end this misery by purchasing railway coupons. But no, this isn’t that easy. First you have to evade through hordes of people (fight with some) and purchase a coupon. Then you go to the coupon punching machine; a sign board either says ‘out of order’, or else in its absence you try getting your coupons punched and realize, like Sisyphus, the futility of your attempts. Having realized that one hunts for the stamps with date and station name on them in frenzy and then finds them – two dirty stamps tied with a dirty rope to an equally dirty ticket window. Well once this date stamp had the wrong date on it. A kind passenger saved the other commuters from the T. C.’s wrath by correcting this date; in the process the man ended up staining his entire hands in blue ink. And this in the financial capital of India! I won’t deign to imagine the condition of places elsewhere in India.


In order to capture this I have written a poem as follows:

The coupon punching machine

The coupon punching machine.
The fat man who’s hardly ever working!
Whenever I go he’s on leave
Due to some ailment;
Last time he was handicapped.
Miserable condition I must say.
Poor thing!
Finally he succumbed
To his illnesses.
Now there are
Two wires dangling
Where he sat lazily,
And two stamps elsewhere
At a ticket window.
May his soul rest in peace.

Shawarma...yummy!!!

A tower of meat
Rotating on a vertical skewer.
Flanked by an onion on top
And a tomato beneath
Intermittently are placed chunks of fats.
As it roasts in the furnace hot
Grease and the juices fall in the receptacle
Drop by drop.
The shawarma man shaves off the meat from the tower
Into the receptacle
Full of grease and juices drops.
This mix of meat, fat and juicy drops
He transfers onto a roti hot.
Then on it is poured hummus, tahini and lemon juice.
Followed by pickled vegetables, cardamom and lettuce.
Then come the French fries
And the roll is made.
Heated a bit and served with
Mayonnaise and pomegranate concentrate.