VERSE | BIRDS

I’d become an avid bird lover
Since the pandemic hit my town
Ere I never could relate except
As a beholder looking on

But then this pair of mynahs
Intrepid little things
Well one was bravheart, the other a mass
Of nervous fluttering

Decided that my balcony
Was a good place for some treats
So they would pay me visits
For some raisins and some cheese

I came to home number two
Carrying my avian love with me
Cooing pigeons in all forms
There frequented my balcony

Their rolling gait, their gentle sounds
Quite stole my heart away
And so I wooed them as they cooed
Treat-luring them everyday

By and by the guileful birds
Dropped their adorable avatar
My chairs and tables were endowed
With their organic pockmarks

Now gently I admonish them
When they flap into my home
But they think I’m requesting more
Of their nitrogen-rich guano

I’m now a not so avid fan
Of the expelling, flying flock
My OCD has on my glee quite
Turned back the blessed clock.
The parents had brought their fledgelings to my home a second time. A bit of a soft initiation into the real world 🌸

VERSE | NATIONAL (S)CARRIER

A bit of a funny ramble about my recent flight from Karachi to Lahore.

I travelled on a plane today 
And felt compelled to write
This verse of my experiences
On PIA’s domestic flight

Let me start with a whinge
The seats have no leg room
Even the petites are overcome
By claustrophobia and doom

The stewards and the stewardesses
Seem like they’ve just had enough
Of meeting, greeting passengers
Their demeanour is kind of rough

But that’s ok, we’re a nation of
Tough minded women and men
And there is a tad more softness
For the elderly and the children

It was a daytime flight, post luncheon-time
So folks had had their meals
Some nodding off with gaping mouths
Others snoring with extra zeal

The plane jerked forward and began
To taxi on the concrete
While the stalls held two or more
Full bladder emergencies

Off we lifted off and then
We climbed up to the clouds
There was a bit of turbulence
There were loud prayers from the devout

As we levelled off the crew
Started on their inflight missions
Soon the plane transformed into
Zubaida’s Desi Kitchen

And of course everyone there
Ate a second meal
Food is integral to our
National look and feel

Soon the air was rent with
Loud belches and with sighs
The pungent vapor wafting ‘tween
The seats and in the aisles

An overhead bin flew open
With a painful, turgid groan
A fit finale to the meal that had
Endowed its own bloat

The icing on the cake was
The toffees on the tray
And our disembarkation
In a half-civilised way

One prevented a stampede
Of desperate humanity
One a choti meethi* offering
For PIA’s eccentricity.
* Choti Meethi: :small and sweet” in Urdu

VERSE | BLUNDER WOMAN

I was in a hurry, in a mad rush 
The morning was crazy, yes one of those
The alarm had belted shrilly out
But I was dead to the world, comatose

Dreaming of wishes being horses and Bookers
Until the clock struck ten and then
I threw off the duvet, leaped out of bed
Limbs all awry like a headless chicken

Here’s a little aside: when I’m stressed
My hair also declares a mutiny
Acts up like it’s the raging heroine
Of its very own show on prime time telly

And so it was in this agitation
That I knocked my elbow on the door
I cursed like a sailor who’s had too much ale-er
Deliriously, frenziedly I swore

I vented as much as a random string
Of choice expletives can enable
The rest of the rage I swallowed away
As virtuously as I was able

Then the ultimate decimation came to pass
I stubbed my wretched left little toe
What chanced to happen in the heat of my passion
You really wouldn’t want to know

Suffice it to say that on that day
The angels filling in my Wicked Gal page
With brimstone, hellfire, the sinfulness of ire
Had a field day, ‘twas their advantage

And so ‘twixt my shoulders and my feet now
A funny bone doesn’t exist at all
I try to be sweet-talking, kind and good
Until the next time I slam, stub or fall.

VERSE | CAUGHT RED-SALAD!

This is my Alice in Wonderland type of journey through my bowl of salad. Some trials (including of the dietary variety) are best undertaken up close and personal! Also thrown in some existential angst for good measure. The title of the piece is a play on the phrase “Caught red-handed”.

I pick my way through little bits
Of bright green, the shade
Of fresh cut grass
I then pass
A scarlet flower the size of my head
It sits on the ground like it’s dead
Or perhaps waiting
Anticipating
Food? Me? Like the Venus flytrap?
I shudder and go on
It agitates me that I’m alone

I look up
There propped
On a frilly green tree
I see
A brown green dome
Velvety on the outside
Is it a temple? A den? A ploy to lull the senses
Full of pretenses
Of warmth and safety
Waiting slyly for unsuspecting prey?
I shiver and go on

I’m borne on fogs
Of peppery wet air
I stop and stare
At uneven bricks of black and white
Stacked haphazardly
Here and there
Are these stairs to heaven? alien art? remains of ritual sacrifice?
I can’t tell … but oh the smell!
As I step through a hole
Soft and pliable, the pong
Makes my eyes water
I falter for a bit
It it a giant fungus? A virus? A disease?
I step through gingerly —

“Good afternoon ma’am. How’s the salad”
I’m startled, awakened from my reverie
I look down at my bowl
Where I had been traipsing
Thumb-nail small
In a fearsome fantasy
That my despairing mind had woven
In garden salad tapestry

Lettuce, tomatoes, olives and cheese
Untouched, unloved, salt-pepper doused
Waiting for a forkful raised to my mouth
Sit patronisingly, self righteously
In the bowl, staring back at me.

VERSE | ICARUS, REALLY?

* ICARUS: One of the most famous tragic figures in Greek mythology, his story highlights the dangers of excessive pride/ fixation. Although he was warned by his father not to fly too high, Icarus became overexcited and flew too close to the sun, causing his wings (made by his father,from feathers and wax) to melt and leading to his untimely death.
This is a bit of satire on the old Greeks of mythology.
There was once a young woman 
She had this special thing
One can’t call it love you see
The Sun was her heart’s king

She’d look up at the sky all day
In spring and then in summer
Winter woes came down in throes
Not seeing him was a bummer

But she’d then glue her sun-sick eyes
Upon the tele-vusion
Watching classics and Sci-Fi
Of beaches and nuclear fusion

(Fission, I admit, is a grander term
But it’s a small explosion
Through staid old Fusion doth the sun
Make Helium from Hydrogen)

One day on her 60th birthday
She’d had it with long distance
She put her crafty hands to work
She wasn’t losing one more instant

She made herself some silver wings
With aluminium and nylon string
And then up to the roof she went
To flap, flap up to her king

It was probably mind over matter that
Got her five feet above the roof
The Sun finally said “Icarus in your 35th
Incarnation, you’re still a goof”.

KIDSBOOKS | THE HAPPY SUBMARINE

There was once a little sub 
He was called Eleos*-Blue
His daddy had swum in world war One
His mummy in world war two

He had grown up being taught
That his role was to fight
To carry sailors in deep waters
Where there was zero light

His little body had been trained
To dive in extra deep
Sharks and squids and anglerfish
Would never make that trip

But in his tinny tiny heart
The little sub didn’t like
The grownup chore that they called war
He was a happy little tyke

When the admirals saw that he
Would beam with the purest joy
Everytime he was visited
By a little girl or boy

They took him to the water park
And put him in the pool
And there he still swims happily
There never was a sub so cool!
* Eleos: In ancient Athens, Eleos was the personification of mercy and compassion – the counterpart of the Roman goddess Clementia.

VERSE | A SWEET ENCOUNTER

I looked at her over my coffee mug 
Stealing silent glances
Looking her way
Then looking away
My heart had set up a regular cacophony
As I stared at her secretly
From above the rim of my cup
That I brought to my lips to sip,
The adrenaline instead making me chug
She sat there, serene and beautiful
An ode to perfection itself
Between the gulps I watched and drooled
Oh lord! I felt like such a fool!
I took in a ragged breath
I had to calm myself
I had to let the feeling pass
To wring it, wash it from my heart
I had to fight, wrest my hungry eyes
Off that whetter of fantasies, that queen of delight
That mesmerizing, will-defying Passion Fruit Tart

VERSE | THE QUIRKS OF WAXING LYRICAL

I thought I’d write a poem today 
For a change, a cheerful one
It seems like my prolific poetry
Is making me the Queen of Glum

It’s not that I don’t see the beauty
The hope and joy that abound
In big and small spaces
In young and old faces
Oh i see it all around!

But I also see life’s glimmer
Fade away, get slowly dimmer
In close and distant places
In fresh and weathered faces
And my own feelings grow grimmer

The angst nudges the bard in me
Unlike any rush of triumph or glee
The words spill out agonised, enraged
In wounded quatrains upon the page
(And I have to say!)
I feel lighter for the venting spree

So I thought I’d write a poem to tell
Whether in fact I am capable
Of verse that won’t assault your tear ducts
Or indeed get your adrenaline up
(What can I say!)
These are the quirks of waxing lyrical

VERSE | ADVIL AND SHEEP

I woke up today, I’d had ten hours of sleep
A mixture of guilt and satisfaction rolled around
In my frontal lobe. Yesterday had been
Another tsunami of sights and sounds
So much activity, so much to process
My neurons had scrambled like spooked racehorses
With a glass of water, I sat still until
I reached in my bag for my bottle of Advil

I finally went to bed, it was 3 am
I had to switch off, I had to get to sleep
I had to be a part of the human condition
I closed my eyes and began counting sheep
I lay in the wakeful throes of identifying
The multicoloured sheep that went flying
Across a rainbow stile that was ten feet high …
Who was I kidding! Wide awake I opened one bright eye

Now when daylight stabs my eyelids with its beams
A cosmic alarm clock to wake up to and be spry
Even as it prods me in the haziness of my dreams
I snooze it three-score times, as I waken by and by
The Advil and the sheep remain my special twins
One bleats its lullabies, the other stills the din
So I go from day to day and from night to night
Sometimes it’s tumultuous, at others it’s alright

VERSE | MONEY DEOL

A fond and fun tribute to all those who live in close quarters with Money Deols. May the universe keep sending you little kindnesses to make up for the relentlessness of your days 😄

I had this absolutely delicious dream 
Of floating amid pocketbooks laced with cream
Dollar bills and five thousand notes
Were sending their special bouquet up my nose

Morning came and I had to resign
Those exquisite dreams to the tides of time
But ever the optimist that I am
I know I’ll dream of riches again

Today after breakfast I meditated
On my bank balance in the United State-es
My heart skipped a beat, I had to be cautious
But oohhh! All that dough! So Expialidocious!

For lunch I had a sandwich and a coke
My mind wandered into another nook
Yes it was lined up and down with money bags
I was so overcome I almost gagged

Tea was a peaceful affair as the day waned
As I dipped in a biscuit my thoughts roamed again
My prime real estate and other things like it
Made each sip sweeter, each bite iconic

By dinner time the perfection of my day
Was marred only by the distance that lay
Between all my riches and my two hands
That lovely bond only wealth connoisseurs understand

My prayers were modest as they always are:
God please don’t ever take me far
From my beloved’s legally tender embrace
I bow to you, I request your benevolent grace

I then lay me down for another night
Of gilded dreams and green backed sights
I slowly drift off on precious wings
Made of savings certificates and treasury bills

KIDSBOOKS | THE CHEEKY GALA

There was once an apple 
The Gala variety
She would preen and pose all day
For all the world to see

The other apples told her
To be fruity and be kind
To watch the world quietly
But Gala paid no mind

One day while the apples
Sat in the produce aisle
A naughty little child came by
With a naughty little smile

They looked at him quietly
Maybe he’d go away
But Gala preened, oh she beamed
She loved being on display!

The little boy saw the apples
And almost passed them by
But then as she did a little jig
Cheeky Gala caught his eye

He pounced on the dancing fruit
She would be his lunch
Your imagination should tell you that
The next sound was a - “Crunch”!

KIDSBOOKS | THE SCARECROW PROTOCOL

Hi ho! I’m a scarecrow 
I’m made of sticks and sawdust
Any clothes that you don’t want
I very happily adjust

Your little shirt might be too small
Your pants may come to my knees
But I just take some sawdust out
Wearing them becomes a breeze

So if you see me somewhere
In a field or in a glade
Drop off a scarf, a glove or a hat
Or a drawing that you’ve made

If you can put them onto me
That would be just a charm
But if they don’t fit, sometimes I’m big
Then just knot them on my arm

And if I’m already wearing
Too many clothes and it is hot
Don’t share any outer wear
Just wave and say good luck!

And that’s the Scarecrow Protocol
For all who pass us by
Sometimes it’s your clothes we’d like
At others, just a friendly hi!