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Baba, Baba,

Black sheep,

Have you any money?

Yes sir, yes sir,

1000 Trillion dollars!

Some for the master,

Some for the friends,

And none for the poor goats,

Who live down the gutter lane!




Maximum experiences,

happen in sequence,

as if this was going to be

the last lesson of life!

Never mind though,

welcome problems,

welcome change!


Minimum is what

we expect,

at the maximum!

When our expectations are


world appears real that,

Sometimes far away

from what we think,

Sometimes just next to

what is actually!

This is the reality,

wherever you wanna go,

on this planet!

Just be a sailor in sea,

or a failure in a clutter!

So, which is better?

Maximum experiences or

Minimum expectations??

Both lead through same sea!


Auto Rickshaw Tourism!


So many hands waving,

as bystanders keenly watch,

So many looking for that one vehicle,

but none to board!

His hand with a Casio

sports wrist watch,

Her palm waving.

with a cane bangle

on her wrist,

and red painted nails,

Waving restlessly

and waiting for d’auto,

One auto rickshaw

finally boarded,

With a deal,

for Metered money is lesser,

So passenger is now

the Shehanshaw,

With his queen by his side,

Riding on the chariot,

For the elevated privilege,

Of being showered with,

An opportunity of

boarding an Auto rickshaw,

with a overrated metered deal!


The Rickshaw, well decorated,

With red leather covering,

With two huge posters,

of collage, Of probably,

his favorite actors,

Aishwariya Rai and Peirty Zinta,

The “Digital meter” veiled in a

Leathered red cover with

two tiny traditional bells,

In this semi-modern attire of the d’auto,

The driver is so happy,

To have owned this

3 wheeled chariot, in itself!


His recent successful deal,

Of additional bucks,

puts him in an elated journey,

Honks at a Volkswagen car,

Another LML scooter,

Some pedestrians,

All disturbed by the

honking melodies of driver,

All the cars, lorries, vans,

Buses, scooters, rickshaws, rigs,

Pedestrians, all on the same road,

foggy of smoke, deaf of horn!

All are honking at one another,

Except few dutiful citizens!


Mother beating her school kid,

Crying for an Off-school day,

Crossing the dreaded road!

An old lady with an umbrella,

With Bhagawad Gita in her hand,

Passes by, for her old age recital

Of a spiritual journey!

Another couple,

a guy in spiky hairstyle,

walking in red checks canvasses,

With a girl, in funky long tee,

walking in Ballerina shoes,

Go hand in hand,

Out of this “traffic” world,

their own world!

Bike riders in goggles

and back packs,

In eighty plus speed,

Shooting into fast world,

To overcome the

belated college attendance!

Some clad in ties,

waiting and viewing as bystanders

for their office vehicles!

Its the same road to

all tourists!


The world is so beautiful, as it is!

So interesting and

So much to see,

So much to learn,

as a Rickshaw journey,

Teaches a life,

Of the “grounded” world,

With ever running vehicles,

tourists, and honkers,

For the goal of their own life!

At some time or the other probably,

Everyone have toured into,

an Auto Rickshaw tourism!


In the wishful rain!

In the sweet smell of roses,                   

In the garden, In the rain,             

A little girl, walking alone,

In the umbrella view,

is hiding her teeny weeny

wishes in her eyes,

frees her of the umbrella,  

drenching in her

free spirited wish,

Singing and dancing,   

In the melodious tune

of anklets and bangles,

in twinkling bindis and her smiles,

In the moment, so precious,         

She holds the rain drops,         

In her tiny palms,         

grasping the magical trice,         

Of a pure desire,         

that is alive forever,         

as a reminiscent dream!


Rubber Band of Love!


Red colored,

Leathered and feathered,

Affixed in the tea-poi,

Struck with a very long, curly

In the afternoon light,

It was brightest among the junk!

Buoyant in nature,

When my tea-poi visitors,

Test the elasticity,

Perhaps a strange desire,

For It is a stronger rubber band,

Survived a mini holocaust!

When I was right there,

To save the little, helpless
rubber band!


When on a winter fall day,

My 6 year old little sister,

gifted me that little band and tied,

my brown, messy haired plait,

With her cute, tiny palms!

A red rubber band of love,

that is now wrinkled of age,

That still rhymes from those,

Big twinkling eyes!


A walk by the sea!

Inside a layer of a tide,

Two pairs of tiny feet find a place,

They walk, they jump,

Spilling the water,

The tiny tides rising,

By the still summer sea!


One pair of feet,

clear and fair,

with pink nail paint

and a single anklet,

Another pair of feet,

fair and neat,

Daddy’s hard work of

The trimmed nails,

With a pair of silver anklets!

tide by tide,

feet covered up,

deeper under sand!


The feet walked along in tides,

Searched for the rarest of shells,

Corals and snail shells,

Like in those interesting tales,

Of the sea, of treasure hunt,

They go searching,

All of the baby fish and the dead crabs,

mollusk and the tusk shells,

None found was a treasure!


Some crabs, alive and hiding ,

And some scurrying sideways,

Were all passing by the tide,

and by the tender little feet!

The giggles and squeaks,

Coz of the moving tiny crabs,

That were blessed by our feet!


In the golden light of dusk,

We were a silhouette,

Of the two little lost rabbits,

by the kelps and weeds,

of the rocks and reeds,

to our screaming mamma

and searching and angry papa,

who finally discovered us,

Out of our memorable sea walk,

dated April, 1987!


The Goggles!

It’s a colorful world

From the goggle view

Green n blue

Brown n red!

Rayban or Prada,

Ultra-violet shades or

Ultra-modern display,

For a purpose, in vogue!

Silver or Golden,

White stoned or

Diamond studded,

A Glitterati display,

Into a colorful earth,

Through the colorful frame of mind!

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall,

Who is the fairest of all?”

Mirror answered “no one”,

She said “I am no queen,

But I know in the unfair

Anyone can appear fair,

In this world, which is a “Fair”
of the unfair!”

I have been hearing so much on drugs, blind beliefs in mask of traditions and consequences, as so many cases broke out in the city all over, in recent times! The movies like “Anukokunda Oka Roju”, “Dum Maaro Dum” have thrown light and trying to make society beware of such deadly, disguising options and recent raids on such immoral and horrifying activities, have all left a message to everyone!  I dedicate this one to the incidents and victims of “enmasked blind-beliefs” and “drug/drink addictions”, as I think there is no difference between both of them, psychologically!



Drugs, drinks, beliefs,

Addictions blind one selves,

To one’s own selves!


Choose anesthetic mind or

Choose soporific negligence,

In a veil of delusions,

Or in a veil of illusions,

As he mentions sometimes!


Were it coz of drugs, drinks or

Or dis-beliefs in self?

Or Winning over an “unreal” you?

Or Loosing over a “real” self?


If belief is a perception,

drawn out of only society and
ever evolving culture,

Unlike the “new” present,

Or a “changed” past beliefs,

Then why did a belief fail to


Did he respect a belief?

Or reject a belief?

Is non-acceptance a dis-respect
to a belief?

A question, that can only be

For it is the belief in conscience,

A self confession is the only means!


Or Is this an addiction to a

What will he choose?

Drugs or drinks

Or ever changing beliefs,

To adapt to every single mind,

To “convince” every single
perception under Sun,

To be in good books of all minds?

where do you stand to your conscience?


As an addictive habit,

each belief seem so right at some
point to him,

Seem so wrong to him at some
other point,

By his own choice,

At his own convenience,

or is it a self-written unnamed


Did he see a dark shadow,

In the mirror of “greyed” self

Or is that a Dr. Jekyll or a Mr.

In a manipulated world,

Created by his own self?


The fragile mirror is breaking,

for failure of letting him

Not “see” and “realise” his “real” Image!

The mirror, cracked and broken down,

into pieces of glass, Invisible!




She was like a snow flake,

Flying in winter breeze,

In dreams,

Far from spine chilling weather,

Scary at times,

Until she realized a cold truth!


Catch other flying snowflakes,

She thought in denial of reality, but,

Winter soon turned to a desert’s summer,

With mirage, a dream of reality,

Disappearing in her vague gaze,

Appearing as a dream of outcry,

Cactus and reality,

Were seen together,

Like distant cousins!


She was soon becoming a cactus,

Who would stand stubborn,

To a scorching desert!

Snowflakes must have been a mirage,

In the reality of desert!

Can she be that snowflake, she dreams?

Can she?

How can she be?


Is it a desert or a cold mountain?

Is life a mirage or a snowfall?

Is life what she thinks?

What she chooses, that it is!

Can you guess her?

Can you make her choose right?

How I wish, she did!


Make a right choice, girl!

She should!

She can!

It’s a journey that is worth!

Let her be!

She will soon love it to be,

Coz she is now a cactus!