Doggerel: Impending Doom

These "poems" are dedicated to my little cosine, Kavi.

And there I was in the sea
As deep as I could be
I saw a little hook, it looked nice
And now I'm being served with fried rice.

"Bark, bark, bark!" I said
As I snuggled into my master's bed.
He got up; "Don't disturb me" he said
And kicked me till I was dead.

I can carry fifty times my weight, you see;
No cube of sugar is a match for me.
But I am very scared of the shoe -
For, when it crushes me - there's only formic acid and goo.

I saw a lamb tethered under a tree
My mouth watered"That's a meal for me"!
After a very sumptuous feast,
In the Hunter's cabin, I am now a stuffed beast.

He wants to take care of us

There is someone up in the sky,
who wants to look after you and I.
He hates to let things go wrong;
He wants to keep us happy and strong.

He would like to give us shelter from the rain,
He craves to protect us from anguish and pain.
And He desires to protect the coast from the wave,
and from the mighty hurricane.

He wants no violence on his name,
Peace is his method, his aim!
He is the god that We beleive in;
Utter incompetence, his only sin.

Inheritance

There was once a little village -
Long before this day and age.
And within that lived a tribe;
It raised animals to survive.

Let's start with the family of Manmohan Singh,
He raised cows for a living.
Near his sedate and slow moving cow,
Bulls, his family would never allow.
To the calves, they would feed all the grass,
The milk bearing cows, they would starve.
The cows then started to perish-
The milk supply started to finish.

And then the clan of Jacques Chirac
Who made their life toiling with an ass.
The ass was to carry brick and stone-
To build many a happy home.
The ass, he would feed a lot daily,
Regardless of the work quality.
The ass started to work less and less,
But Chirac still kept feeling it in excess.

The weasel belonged to one Vladimir Putin,
Ostensibly, it looked famished and thin.
The weasel would smile at the dinos and the cows,
But would secretly snack on frozen chicken beside its house.
And eating the chicken gave it sharp teeth now,
It looks more the dragon it used to, less like a cow.
When it was a dragon, it had learnt,
How to breathe fire, how to get the village burnt.


And Hu Jintao had a fire breating dragon,
It was visible to no one.
He would sacrifice one from his family to the dragon every year.
His family would live in eternal fear.
Though the dragon would devour one every year,
Hu reckoned procreation was the cure.
Dragons can kill asses, can kill cows
And dinsoaurs too, if push came to shove.

George Bush had a pet called Fido,
a massive fire breathing dino.
The dino had everything cheap-
And therefore would just eat, eat and eat.
While a cow would just ruminate,
Fido would devour a little forest.
But there's no forest anymore now
Fido might just have to diet, you know.

A Love Song

'twas a dreary and rainy night,
On the damp road, there was not a soul in sight.
After a long and tiring work day,
Towards home he started making his way.

He was working on a new theory,
Something to do with Quantum Gravity.
He was thinking of equations in his head,
When he percieved a silhouette.

He was fed up of walking all alone;
Wouldn't it be nice to walk with someone?
He walked faster, to catch up with the silhouette,
Till all between them was not more than a step.

All of a sudden, he heard a loud sound -
and he knew what was coming around.
He had seen this before on TV -
How a tornado can sneak up on you and me.

And without further ado he knew what to do -
To an underground cellar he had to get through!
He leaped immediately and dragged the silhouette,
Into an underground cellar.

The slihouette turned out to be an angry young woman-
Abduction wasn't her idea of fun!
Then all of a sudden, they heard violent windy noises above-
her cynicysm turned to gratitude and love.

He hadn't seen her for a second - but he was in love-
Her face was beautiful, her voice -wow!
They hugged and kissed like a song,
Made sweet love all night long.

It was too good to be true he thought,
He was right, for true it was not.
He had fallen asleep on his books
after giving them many blank looks.

And then he awoke to a realization that was rude;
It was a dream, she was not true!
So, he set on his way home,
The atmosphere was rainy, one of gloom.

And he did see a damsel ahead-
- a silhouette.
And sure enough, he heard those sounds
A tornado was surely doing the rounds!

He grabbed her to the nearest cellar,
She was outraged - I don't blame her.
Not a sound came frome above-
no tornado - and certainly no love.

She took out her cellphone, called the cop-
And he is now doing time behind the lock!

Inequities 2: Karim and Yusuf

In the town of Mumbai lived Karim
Abject poverty he lived in.
He drove a taxi for a life,
With the cab he fed his son and wife.

He struggled fifteen hours a day,
- for he needed every inch of this pay.
School isn't cheap, you know
English medium especially so.

They lived in a slum in town,
In a place rented, not their own.
It had a leaky roof,
And a landlord who was aloof.

Of Karim Yusuf had been a friend,
But their friendship came to a premature end,
WhenYusuf flew to a place far away,
namely the US of A.

Yusuf worked as a cabbie in New York,
Only 9 to 5 he needed to work!
He would get enough to eat and drink,
and a nice deposit in the bank.

He managed to buy an American House,
Just with his 9 to 5 income.
He married and American girl,
His was an American world.

And in pride, Yusuf would oft exclaim
" Why is America so rich?It's quite plain
It's just toil and hard work,
Karim is poor because he's a lazy Indian jerk!"

Indian Cricket: A new Business Model

We're a country of hundred crores. That's 1, followed by nine zeros. And we lose to countries such as Australia (2 crores), and Sri Lanka (also 2 crores). And we lose convincingly. That too, in a game which is some sort of religion in India.

Let's extrapolate this a bit. If each state in India had its own team, then they could, with ample coaching become world class teams. Don't ridicule this; Sri Lanka did it, with a population which is only a mere fraction of that of any large Indian state. Bihar, Maharashtra, U.P., Tamil Nadu; they all could have world class teams if they really tried.

But they won't try right now. Why? Though cricket is a passion in India, it is still not compact enough for a family to watch in the evening. A match takes a full day to happen. It has to be on a holiday. And even one day cricket - frankly speaking - is quite a drag for most of the time. Though it is exciting in bits, it is not watchable entirely, especially domestic cricket. So, a match between Mumbai and Delhi attracts a handful of spectators. Lesser people watch it on Television.

It is not as if people in India do not like entertainment. Our standard of living might be low but the Indian likes his or her leisure. Rajani's movies are sold out in the south; Hindi movies are a religion in the north and the west. Cinema halls are always house-full. It does not take an upper middle class lifestyle to enjoy. The man on the street likes, nay, is passionate about, his entertainment. Surely, he can digest more cricket - even domestic cricket - if it were spiced up appropriately.

Suppose a cricket match lasted only three hours - the size of an average movie - or that of an American Baseball game. Suppose there was a lot of hitting .... lots of FAST bowling ... lots of excellent television coverage. Suppose Twenty20 cricket were played between states (and cities) in India. It would no more be the colossal bore that Ranji Trophy matches are. People would pour in to watch in the thousands. There could be a match every weekend in every town - there could be a national tournament. With people interested, advertising revenues would start picking up. Television rights would start fetching money.

Indian cricket would get a shot in the arm. More money would flow into rural India: into smaller towns. Talent would start showing from the villages: before you know it, India would have a dozen of Sachin Tendulkars.

India winning the world cup (perhaps still in the 50 over form)would be as simple as the American basketball 'Dream Team' winning the world series. India would probably continue to dominate the world scene - facing competition only from populous nations such as Pakistan. Perhaps cricket could become truly international: maybe USA and China. Once the game becomes more interesting, why not?

The Indian Dog

Beside every house and every hut
In India there’s always a mangy mutt.
It barks at everything that walks by
Even at the bird up in the sky

There are many such dogs on the road
They bark so much they can’t be ignored.
They chase and mate each other all the time
Male or female, it’s all just fine.

They live in abject poverty
But at least, from the pound they’re free.
They’re always treated with the stick and the stone
People like to make sure they’re gone.

When you try to catch a night of sleep
They make a racket on the street
All night, they bark and bark
Making it impossible to walk in the dark.

When you walk in a secluded spot
They give you all they’ve got.
They show you their teeth and growl.
It all feels so completely foul.

If you to eat as you walk,
You, million dogs will stalk!
What you eat, they can smell.
It’s like ringing a dinner bell.

And when there’s nothing to eat;
No milk and certainly no meat,
Dogs starve and their ribs show.
They look like monsters in a movie show.

In the winters rather than freeze to death
They curl into tight little balls instead.
In the rain they soak it all up
And people say “Oh that poor little pup!”

If you think the lives of dogs are sad.
Most people of India aren’t even half as glad.
They live in huts, the soak in the rain,
And summers and winters just drive them insane.

They suffer from the authorities
Police beat them up whenever they please.
There’s no water for them to drink
No food to eat, to write no ink.

Human life in unfortunate India does so much stink,
That only of dogs do I prefer to think.