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Àŧùl Jun 2017
In your age, my child,
Even I told the cutest of lies.
Such an imaginative kid I was,
I realize that it has been my forte.

One day, I stood on the balcony,
It was 1993 and I was so young.
I was not even 3 years of age,
I urinated there in the balcony!

My mother remembers it sharply,
She always tells me elaborately.
She was there as dad scolded badly,
"Why did you *** in the balcony?"

I was so young,
But not at all naïve.
I was artless,
But also naughty.

I live inside a research campus,
National Dairy Research Institute.
And here has been a cattle yard,
My father had shown me the cows.

So whatever came to my mind,
I just denied having peed there.
"I haven't peed here, daddy,"
"Who peed then?"

I said, "A cow did that, daddy,"
And I blamed a cow for my doing!
"How did it get here, did it fly?"
My dad asked the toddler I was.

I just nodded my head,
My father was amazed.
He looked surprised,
And my mother just laughed.

She said,
*"Darling, I love your sweet little lies!"
A poem for my fictional future child.
And for my dear loving parents.
My HP Poem #1599
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2017
Cricket was started by the English,
They have a lot of spare money,
Too much more spare time,
But India has to work,
And cricket is the deterrent,
It restricts our national growth,
A trace of occupation by the English.
Cricket is such a wasteful expenditure of time and money for a developing nation like India.

Today the people of India need soccer, athletics, swimming, archery, shooting, basketball, volleyball and other sports.

Encourage Indian people to play other better sports.

My HP Poem #1598
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2017
This is a black day for sports,
Even if not in the world,
Surely Indian sports.

Virat - the young junior player,
He made the engineer quit,
Kumble had to give up.

Virat Kohli has a harsh ego,
He let his ego defeat the team,
Whereas Anil Kumble had none.
My HP Poem #1597
©Atul Kaushal
  Jun 2017 Àŧùl
Dude with an Afro
My attire, flyer than a kite
Bellowing higher
Floating, but ******
Sober, I'm told
The only state I'm in
Ain't about sin
Just a means to avoid
a loose mind
Of a multiple kind
Where happy and mad coincide
Follow me through the workings,

Go inside.

Where the mood pendulates
side to side
With reckless abandon.

Manifest in a man
To have childish tantrums
Self righteous in  his self deprecating anthems
To spring one's phantoms alive.

This, I strive to evade
I hide, but to save
No one else, but me.

Everyman for himself!

The mantra (sadly) of anyone seeking to be Free!
Àŧùl Jun 2017
You ask me a question
You ask it with a lot of hope
Whether that smile is of acceptance
Acceptance of your love
I say
No dear
It's not an acceptance smile
But it's just a smile
Filled with guilt & fear
It's a reminder of hers
I can be okay with it
But in a not so short time
My HP Poem #1596
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2017
And I replied:

*"मगर यकीन है मुझे,
अगर ज़्यादा पास तुम आई,
तो मैं तुम्हें भी खो दूँगा।
Magar yakeen hai mujhe,
Agar zyaada paas tum aayi,
To main tumhe bhi kho dunga.

दोस्त ही ठीक हैं हम,
नंबर मांगती हो तुम,
मैं एक की जगह दो दूँगा।
Dost hi theek hain hum,
Number maangti ** tum,
Main ek ki jagah do dunga.

+९१८९५०९३२४५६
+९१७०१५५६९६१४
+918950932456
+917015569614"
­
"But I am sure about it,
If you come closer to me,
Then I will lose you as well.

We are okay as just friends,
You ask for my number,
Have 2 instead of one.

+918950932456
+917015569614"
My HP Poem #1595
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Jun 2017
Yes, Kalpana.
I shall not suggest you about anything,
Kri's the last one I suggested anything.

She got bored of following my advice,
But she still told me all her problems,
Yes, Kalpana.

Yes, Kalpana.
You know rest of the story involved,
How she did get rid of me in the end.

Initially she sought my advice,
She would follow it and be happy,
Because that was logical advice.

But sooner than later she got bored,
She still told me all of her problems,
She wanted not a solution suggested.

Slowly all the charm had worn out,
She grew repulsive to my words,
Ready to suffer she was than to follow my advice.

She was young,
At a crucial stage,
She made mistakes.
My HP Poem #1594
©Atul Kaushal
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