The Binding Ingredient

Little John’s father was a big cheese in New York City.
He was an author whose books sold like hot cakes.
For little John, life was, indeed, a bowl of cherries,
But he wasn’t clever, so his plans were all half baked.

And in Beijing, Chun’s parents disapprove of Bo,
But she’s pregnant, so the rice is already cooked.
And, wish as they might, nothing could be done now.
They hoped that the ginger would get pungent with age.

At the same moment in Paris, Juliette was worried.
The mirror revealed she was as skinny as a string bean.
She aspired to become a model to earn some dough.
So she’d have to work hard on herself, oh puree!

And, in Frankfurt, Adele and her friend were arguing.
Her friend said that Adele had tomatoes on her eyes.
“It’s all in butter!” Adele said in defense of her new relationship.
“That is not my beer!” her friend angrily replied.

So, my friends, if you’re still wondering what I meant
By sharing these little stories from the world over,
It doesn’t matter where you’re from, but you’d comprehend
That food is the ingredient that binds us all together.

The Awakening

When the Sun rises in the skies,
And spreads around its rosy light,
Sleep vanishes with the night,
For a brand new day has arrived.

As I wake up and open my eyes,
I hear the birds singing outside.
The house is peaceful and quiet.
It mirrors the peace in my mind.

The window reveals a pretty sight.
Trees glitter like emeralds bright.
Birds dart about as they take flight.
The flowers bloom on the roadside.

And before the world comes alive,
And turns on its rollercoaster ride,
I say a prayer of thanks for this life.
I’m ready to take it all in my stride.

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.

Love, Naturally

Would I be wrong if I say
Nature’s nature is to nurture?

The mountains that, in the sky, tower,
In their strength, resemble my father.

And the oceans with their waves
Soothe just like my mother’s lullabies.

But what about that emotion called love?
Was that overlooked by Nature?

The answer to that is “no,” my friends.
For love, she has a special expression.

On all her creations, her love she showers
With the beauteous, colorful flowers.

With shades of red, the winter’s roses
Boldly announce their passionate love

In the meadows, the spotless white lilies
Promise commitment and purity.

And the sky blue forget-me-nots
Speak of everlasting fidilelity and respect.

While the multi-hued carnations
Show their affection and admiration.

Of other blossoms, there are a multitude
That express their love so true.

Each with their own vocabulary,
Convey their feelings eloquently.

So, whenever you see these bloom
It’s Nature proclaiming, “I love you.”

My Bed

I cannot deny it – I love my bed.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
Though there’s a desk, chair, and closet,
In my room, my bed is my favorite.

It’s my philosopher and guide
And teaches me a lot about life.
Enclosed in its coziness, I sleep at night –
A sleep that helps recharge my mind.

And what I learn from it is that
When the day has been frustratingly bad,
A deep sleep will untangle the threads
And give me strength for the next day.

My bed is where I see dreams.
It’s where I battle nightmares.
And it’s also the place I say thanks
When my eyes open to another day.

And in the morning, when I’m awake,
My bed is the first thing I make.
For, I can’t predict the course of the day,
But, at its end, I know I’ll have a good rest.

My bed is my best friend.
It’s not just a piece of wood.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
I cannot deny it – I love my bed.

Dream On

Wise men say we all arrive alone.
And alone we will be, when we pass on.
But about this, I have a different opinion,
For, in this world, when we are born,
We’re given a dream by the Holy One.
This dream is a reason to keep on going,
And, in many ways, it keeps reminding
Us to take action for its realization.
Sometimes, at night, it comes as a vision.
Sometimes, it’s in advice or admonition.
It will continue to strive for recognition,
And seek through us, a manifestation.
When we see it through the commotion,
We need to nurture it with true intention.
This dream will exist with us all along,
And will come to life only if we want.

Mother: Earth?

It’s 3500AD; humans have evolved
Not through natural selection,
For Darwin is no longer recalled,
But with scientific intervention.

Space travel has been unraveled,
And in a not-so-distant galaxy,
A new planet has been discovered
For the neohumans to inhabit.

The Earth’s resources are exhausted.
Water in oceans and rivers consumed.
The rainforests have ceased to exist.
The air, with acidic gases, is polluted.

Shuttle after shuttle shoot into space
Carrying out the largest mass exodus.
Of Life on Earth, there will be no trace,
And everything else will turn to dust.

As the last neohuman boards to leave,
And the shuttle takes off at light speed,
“Just about time,” “it” thinks with relief.
And “Mother Earth” loses it’s meaning.

The Night

The dark is not always scary.
Black is not always taboo.
At times, the night is a blessing,
And the absence of light is needed, too.

When the last traces of sunlight fade,
The night with her magical ways
Helps our minds and bodies rejuvenate
Giving strength to seize the next day.

The day is like a cluttered room
With chores, tasks, and nonstop chatter.
The night helps escape this chaos, too.
With sleep, life seems so much better.

Sleep! This word is paradoxical!
As we see dreams with our eyes closed,
And what happens is so illogical –
It’s like we’re awake in a parallel world.

The night is full of mystery,
Something that can never be explained.
So, let her weave her own tapestry,
While the world slumbers, unrestrained.

The Joy of Music

There are many things
That make me glad,
That brighten my days
When I feel so sad.
But none lift me up so much
When I’m feeling bored
As the black and white keys
on my musical keyboard.
Sa, re, ga, ma, pa, dha, and ni-
These notes bring joy to me.
Alankars, ragas, and melodies-
To my heart, they all appeal.
With them, I have realized
Music, in everything, resides.
Be it the hum of the microwave,
Or the beats that a clock plays.
To perfect the notes of a song,
I can practice all day long.
If not once, then twice or thrice
Till I can get the tune right.
There’s a song for every situation.
There’s rhythm, even in silence.
Yes, Music gives me happiness,
For it finally leads me to myself.

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.

A Season Called Autumn

Somewhere on the horizon
Between Summer and Winter
Lies a bridge named Autumn
That links them both together.

As warm turns to chilly cold,
And the leaves prepare to fall,
They turn red, orange, and gold
For a final round of applause.

Only Nature can pull this off.
A show of Death, so beautiful.
A bright and fiery curtain call.
Before She becomes icy cool.

As the air turns cold and crisp,
It’s time to wear the woolens,
And apples await to be picked
Along with plumpy pumpkins.

The fields yield their harvest.
Folks gather for Thanksgiving.
They remember the departed
On the day of spooky Halloween.

Autumn is a season of change.
It’s the season of letting go.
It screams of happiness in endings,
And celebrates Life’s perpetual flow.

Lullaby of the Stars

It has been a while since the Sun said goodbye.
A blanket of darkness is spread out by the night.
And, in the pale glow of the crescent moon’s light,
I hear the twinkling stars sing a melodious lullaby-

“Lie down on your bed and close your droopy eyes,
Sail slowly across the prussian blue midnight skies
On the ship of dreams drawn by iridiscent butterflies
As it takes you to the shores of a beautiful paradise.

On the way, see the magical fairies twirl and smile
As they waltz to a celestial tune with the fireflies.
Look at the rainbow-colored waves fall and rise
As golden mermaids, on their crests, take joy rides.

Take their hands and dive into the aquamarine tide.
There’s a many-hued oyster with its mouth open wide.
Rest your head on the pearly bed laid for you inside.
And sleep till you hear the birds chirping at sunrise.”