To Be or Not to Be … Afraid!!!

Of all the things I fear the most,
This one tops the list.
No, it’s not thunder or ghosts
Or dark bottomless pits.

The very sight of it is menacing
And triggers me to wail,
Not to mention all the suffering
That afterwards prevails.

And it’s not like I can escape
When it is unleashed.
I know that I should be brave,
Yet I quiver like a leaf.

It takes less than a minute
For it to attack and leave,
And I’d rather run away from it,
Than face it tearfully.

It may be small and shimmery,
But it’s as painful as hell.
The singular cause of my misery
Is the doctor’s needle, my friends!

The Dictionary and the Thesaurus

The dictionary and thesaurus got married,
And their wedded life lasted exactly for a day.
Yes, theirs was a story fraught with tragedy,
When that morning started in the usual way.

The thesaurus asked the dictionary what she wanted,
As a gift, and a pink saree, was what she requested.
Now, the thesaurus went excitedly to the market,
And soon returned with a saree the color of peaches.

“I said pink,” the dictionary said, shaking her head.
And so, the thesaurus found himself in the shop again.
He selected a dress that was a shade like orchids,
And, came home, sure that the right decision, he’d made.

“Was I not clear?” The dictionary said incredulously.
“Pink,” she said as she pushed the silky dress away.
Flummoxed, the thesaurus drove to the merchant hurriedly,
And exchanged the purchase for another like champagne.

“Pink! I want pink!” The dictionary yelled furiously.
“Which one?” The thesaurus screamed back at her.
“Blush, coral, flamingo, magenta, salmon or candy?!”
“You should know, pink!” She shrieked in raging anger.

And, this was how their little love story ended abruptly
With the thesaurus racing outside to save himself,
As she picked up his “gift” and threw it at him violently.
Even now, they sit separately, sulking, on the library shelf.

Overthought

So I thought aloud a thought
That differed from your thoughts.
Then I thought some more thoughts
About what you would’ve thought.

This led to a pile-up of thoughts –
The what-ifs and whatnots thoughts,
And I ended up with more thoughts
That I should not have thought.

I know you may not have thought
Thoughts that I thought you’d thought,
Yet, my mind dreads the thought –
You may have thought those thoughts.

If anyone has any possible thoughts
Of how I can stop these thoughts,
Then tell me so without a thought
And to try them, I’ll give it a thought.

Chinese Whispers

Ah! The vagaries of youth –
A game of Chinese Whispers, too
Is a chance to profess, “I love you.”
Or, could it be too good to be true?

His plan was to say the words,
Whisper them in the ear of another,
And for that one to whisper to another,
Till it reached the ears of his love.

He: “I love you so much, it hurts.”
Friend 1:”I shoved you, so does it hurt.”
Friend 2: I shopped for you a red skirt.”
She: I should have you got a shirt.”

O Cupid! Your arrow strayed again!
The message was lost in the game!
What transpired of him and his secret?
Like the game, we’ll never really know it.

A Little Nonsense

If I was You and you were I,
And I lent you some money,
Do you owe me, or I owe You?
And, that would be so funny.
If you’d return what you took,
Then, I’d give it back to You.
And so, it would not be true
For me to say, “Ae! I Owe You!”
So, all is now settled, friends,
As, now, I owe You nothing.
And as this li’l nonsense ends,
I hope it leaves you laughing.

The Wager

‘Twas the summer season
In the great Indian plains.
The heat was unforgiving
In every town and village.

On one such lazy afternoon
In the village of Nenaanoo,
Little Jon and his pals, too
Wondered what to do.

It was too hot to play ball
Or Chupa chupi or Pithoo
Or Gilli Danda or Kho kho
Or Five Stones or Lattoo.

Soon, they started arguing
About who was more clever.
And in the heat of the moment,
The lads agreed to a wager.

The target was a mango tree
Owned by the uppity Mr. Wick.
It was guarded by ol’ Kenie
Who carried a wooden stick.

The tree was heavily laden
With mangoes ripe and golden
Whoever picked five of them
Would be the cleverest one.

And so they crept to the tree.
In silence, the race began.
They heard ol’ Kenie snoring
And soon climbed up a branch.

But ol’ Kenie wasn’t asleep,
He woke up with a loud snort.
And he started chasing them,
So the plan they had to abort.

Down the tree, they all leapt
And scrambled to run away.
But they all stumbled and fell,
As they got in each other’s way.

And so it was as the Sun set,
They returned black and blue.
For ol’ Kenie had caught them
And given them a thrashing, too.

That’s how the story ended
Of Little Jon and his friends.
They never laid a wager again
In the heat of the moment.

From the Witch’s Chronicles

A long, lengthy time ago
There lived a king and queen.
They had a baby daughter –
The prettiest anyone had seen.

One dark night, an evil witch
Stole into the infant’s room.
The bonnie baby she then picked
And flew away on her broom.

A room in a locked tower high
Was where the princess grew up,
With blonde hair and blue eyes
And no company except the evil one.

One day, a prince wandered astray
And stumbled upon the tower.
The princess let down her long tresses
So he could climb up to meet her.

The prince tried hard to ascend,
But kept falling off midway,
For he loved his cakes and croissants,
And had a lot of weight on his waist.

Finally, after many many tries,
He made it to the princess’s chamber.
Huffing and puffing from the climb,
He vowed to save her from the danger.

That was when the witch arrived
And saw the prince with the princess.
The prince raised his sword to strike
But that only spiked his blood pressure.

The battle was short and one-sided.
The witch turned him into a frog.
And to add to his woeful plight,
She threw him into a muddy bog.

And so, it was that during rainy nights
One would often hear him croaking,
“O! I wish I’d eaten less and exercised,
And not slept through military training.”

Well, that was how this story ended.
And I hope this helps you realize.
Good health comes from self-discipline.
Don’t wait to lose it and then be wise.

Just Bloom

I know I need to send that report
With data inferred through pivots.
And the PowerPoint presentation
Needs an editing of the animations.

I know I need to reply to that email.
It’s sent in red with high importance.
And a review discussion is pending
That needs a thorough preparation.

I know I need to make my bed.
The sheets lie loose and crumpled.
And the room has to be cleaned,
Dusted and wiped till there’s a sheen.

I know I need to hang the laundry
On the line with clips so they stay.
The dishes in the sink need a wash
With soap, scrubber and a brush.

I know there’re chores to be done.
Tasks that are high priority ones.
But, today, these aren’t on my to-do’s.
For, like flowers, all I’m going to do is… bloom.

Gravity and Me

One beautiful day, I was strolling down the street
With the breeze in my hair, a song on my lips,
A skip in my step and my eyes towards the sky.
Imagining shapes in the clouds floating by.
When, all of a sudden, She crept up stealthily,
And I found myself lying flat on the hard concrete
After stepping on a discarded, unheeded banana peel.

Then, there was that day, when I visited the library
Hoping to read a book and borrow another three
Debating between Robin Cook and Agatha Christie,
Or, maybe, an Isaac Asimov would be the best for me.
When, who should espy me? Yes, it was again She.
And there I was heeding to her as She called me,
As I stumbled and tumbled down ten stairs painfully.

And, I can never forget that lovely dinner party
With food so scrumptious and wine that flowed freely.
As the skies outside turned rosy with the Sun setting,
The music was turned up and everyone began dancing.
When five minutes into the prancing, whom did I meet?
Confound it! You’re right – it was my “bestie”; it was She.
As I landed on the floor instead of my heeled feet.

Yes, we’re in a special relationship – Gravity and me
Except, we’re not like chocolate and strawberries.
I may think I can hide, but She’s too good at seeking.
There’s just no chance of avoiding her or escaping.
Like Fevicol, She’s stuck on me permanently,
And every encounter when She shows up gleefully,
Unfortunately, ends for me distressingly – O woe is me!

A Tale of Logic and Emotion

One fine day, Logic and Emotion
Couldn’t decide what to do in the evening.
Logic wanted to stay at home with the book
While Emotion wanted to go for a stroll by the brook.

Logic said that the brook was too far away,
And the weatherman said it would rain anyway.
Not to mention the Sun would be setting soon.
Only a fool would walk in the dark with the Moon.

Logic added that the home had a great fireplace.
Nothing would be better than to curl up near it.
The book was engaging with three hundred pages
Of how human beings had evolved through the ages.

So Logic said that was that, and that’s how it’d be
While Emotion kept listening to the words silently.
In the end, from her eyes fell a little tear drop
And they finally ended up going for the walk.

Sugar and Me

Debuting in the greatest reality show in the universe,
I was bound by restrictions for better or for worse.
The dos and don’ts that were laid out were aplenty.
Some were stated clearly, and some, not so clearly.

But of all the conditions I was supposed to adhere,
none was as confounding as the one about sugar.
Yes, this two-faced ingredient is used in desserts.
With milk, flour, spices, fruits, and other cohorts.

It soon became a habit in a wee, gullible kid like me
as I found it to be so likable and so darn sweet.
“She’s a growing child,” all the people would say,
and I got away with the laddoos, candies, and cakes.

With Time, the law of cause and effect progressed,
and soon, my true blue friend was seen as a defect.
Yes, every bit I ate stayed on with me on my waist,
and it did not take a doctor to know I was overweight.

The do now metamorphosed into a major don’t
as this double-crossing thing upset my hormones.
The one that was delectable is now my enemy.
I need to break up with it both physically and mentally.

Well, the wheels of the reality show go on and on,
and I have with me now a new set of regulations.
Read this, my friends, and I hope you will be the wiser.
When it comes to eating sugar, it’s best to be a miser.