She gets out of the car, adjusting her shalwar The legs one mustn’t behold, out of their fabric strongholds The ankles though, for a moment show Their shameful curvature.
It can’t be helped you see, we are bipedal beings But we can’t see the nuances of practical biology When blinded by the nobility of our formidable patriarchy, And cloaked in out great Fervour of faith.
And so she bends just a little to adjust the errant drape And while she endeavours, to hold together Her blessed modesty Some man out there, finds her morality in disrepair What is she bending for, like a dirty, depraved w****!
And the floods of moral outrage at this corrupt spectacle In their godly country, cause a debacle Every man takes it upon himself to deface this hideousness He then looks to his companions, all now chomping at their bits
They rush upon this evil scene, of the wicked and immoral queen For a queen she is, from head to toe. Evil, wicked, shameful though! She makes their blood gush in great floods Testosterone-filled, Squelching like mud She makes their heads swim in strange ways Where she is master and they are slaves.
God does not permit, such sacrilege Where genders abandon their rightful places Men are meant to lead them forth Moral compasses pointing true north Held aloft by everything, a woman does, from breathing in To the way she walks in crowded streets: Ankles hidden, inconspicuous feet.
And that is why an errant sister in faith (A woman who is alone and out and about!) Reeking of impudence in her unveiled state (Putting her entire morality in doubt!) May naturally be seen by her brothers devout As a wanton woman standing at hell’s gates.
Written amidst the mind-numbing perils of never ending curfew lockdowns. Read at your own mental risk 🤓
Tak taka tak - Tak Tak Kaun hai bhai bata ab tak
CHINA!
CHAI NA girana babu Bari tarpay tarpay tarpay Meri leg not so halkay halkay
Knock knockity! Knock Knock Who’s there, before I click back the lock
ZEBRA!
ZE BRA in France is black or white Practical and just hugging one right And if you feel the added zeal Add some colour, like lilac and teal.
Tap ti tap tap - Tap Tap Who is it? That was a fine rap
LIZARD!
LIZ ‘EARD you call her “mighty stout” You really put your foot in your mouth! She may be big but she’s got style She’ll make you eat your words for a mile
Ding da ding ding- Ding Dong Who is it? Come sing us a song
RHINO! O-O! O…OOOO!
Mr. RAI, NO we will not do this Mrs Rai yes it’s all the craze Rainbow coloured hair for you And I will go for baby blue
Clap de clap clap - Clap Clap Who goes there? Who gives my door a thwack?
‘Tis me MAYNA!
MAY NA bhoolonga MAIN NA bhoolongi My nemesis is bharta de cauliflower And mine is garbanzo beans!
Open the door for salvation Open the door for your soul Who … who’s there? ‘Tis me your moral sense, Call me your conscience No punning, rhyming words here No weighty equations. Just you and me and clarity That’s been lost too long at sea
I’m deaf! I’m deaf! I can’t hear you Ps. I’ve not seen any clarinet either! (Hehe!) So the door stays closed, barred and locked Not opening any windows neither! Go elsewhere, go where you can be heard The (h)earless are quite rampant here Don’t come knockity knocking upon my door Amd I’ll pretend as if you were never here - dear!
A satirical take on some of the fairy tales we’ve grown up with. Can you guess each of the four Scary Tales? 🤓
You know I kind of hate you With your magic and your spells Always trying to help folks Always being so swell My father’s on his own trip Marrying yet again I wanted all his attention Now of my existence you’re the bane So I’m going to show you up as The evil step mom in the wings Going to booze and then I’ll snooze And await my Prince Charming
I’ll do you better with my step fam A mother and her progeny! I curse the day I met them The entire simpering family! I’m irked by their sweet faces These step sisters of mine Always minding their Ps and Qs, Dimpling their saccharine smiles. I’ll raise a big fake scandal Of their meanness and their pride Pater will have no choice But to have them thrown outside.
I’m a bit of a peculiar one I loved my solitude Until father brought in New Mom My lonesomeness to loot Always laughing, always nice So gleeful and alive I’d been cringing night and day At her effusive vibe So I plotted insidiously and By and by got myself out I now have my own tower For my tresses and my gout.
You’ve all taken so long to weave Yourselves into this rhyme We got rid of our step mom One bread crumb at a time. She insisted on healthy food And also bushels of love Ugh! No! We wanted none of that So we arranged for witchy stuff Old Dame Crone opened her home To us to live with her Ice cream and pizza off the doors In bed, Twix and Ferrero Rocher!
The old wives tales of mean step moms Are a riot and a half But we are not complaining; No! We’re having the last laugh Princesses and Cinder-gals We’ve all got our own quirks And truth be told, we oft unfold Into audacious jerks These scary tales are the flip side Of the happy ever after Sometimes the cackle that you hear Is our malificent laughter.
A random (cheeky!) ramble about all the “Saas – Bahu*” relationships out there. Attempting to encapsulate the thinking of both, the usually entitled South Asian mother-in-law and the mostly afflicted SA daughter-in-law.
Our blue green world has gone to POT Not the stuporous, cheering kind The elating, fascinating kind The happily beclouding kind The angst all a-blurring sort No, all that it certainly is not
But our world has gone to POT Not the souffle baking sort Not the healthy steaming kind Not the chicken tikka fry Nor the chuck roast braising sort No, none of that comforting lot
But our world has gone to POT Not the bowel movement kind The cleansing of the intestines The calming morning ritual kind The 1 kg load lessening sort No, of the closet family it’s not
But our world has gone to POT Moral compass broken down Compassion harder to be found Dignity, serenity, gratefulness Are just so many hollow sounds In the flowing waters of life From cresting fullness back to the ground
Yes, our world has gone to POT Not the stuporous, cheering kind Not the soufflé baking sort Not the morning ritual kind. But the saddening, maddening sort The depressing, disappointing sort The “I’m done with it. Over and out” That’s how our world is going to pot.
They say with some frivolity that we humans Are nothing more than cucumbers with emotion. Even in this bizarre drollery There is some existential irony As we go from one diet to the next; One new year’s resolution to the next; One promise of commitment to another; One version of truth to another; One moral compass point to the next; One exhausted ideology to the next … Always yearning, needing and wanting; Promoting, demoting, hiding and flaunting; Also faltering, crumbling, momentarily falling; Then rising and moving, stoically persevering; But ever Hoping; always enduring To become ever better; to build something lasting. And so we continue to live on our blue green planet, Perpetually watering 60% of our body weight; Unconsciously threading into the throb of Existence As it weaves its alchemy in the H2O continuance In and around us; into the grand scheme of things; Our emotions are there to remind us of this. So the next time you feel somewhat overwhelmed, Under the weather; emotionally spent; Take a deep breath, and remember ladies and gents. That we’re just watery green vegetables endowed with sentiment.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 