"garam" poems
Mrs Sharma is looking busy
Walking back from her yoga class
In Her right hand a bag full of potatoes
In her left hand, 2 kilos of onions
Its a freaking hot day in Delhi,
She stopped a taxi and hurried home
Aloo paratha her family's menu for today.
At home she went straight to her kitchen
Peeled and boiled the Potatoes
finely chopped Onion, coriander, ginger and chillies
Now where is the garam masala?
Here you are Mrs Sharma,
Salt Red Chili powder, Garam masala and some butter
Aloo Paratha with lots of butter,YUM YUM
Lunching at Sharma's home is Splendid
better than Mahesh Lunch Home in Juhu, Andheri.
Let's get started says Mrs Sharma
Let's make the dough
Make two chapati
add the filling to one chapati
and cover it with the second one.
Now Mrs Sharma rolls it slightly and heats it in the oven...
Let's ask Mrs Sharma,
Is food the elixir of life?
Yes very much she said
She feels like she is living for it.
As she spreads butter over the paratha
She says her mantra twice,
Eat healthy but don’t over eat.
She serves aloo paratha hot to her smiling kids
adds yoghurt to Mr Sharma's plate
she is so proud when she says to her family
Eat in moderation and eat healthy..
Smile and let's eat Aloo paratha Mrs Sharma's way...
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC
I promised my PATI.. a chapati for breakfast
A plain chapati I passionately learnt to make
Oh.. What an impression I will make...
A marvelous chapati and a glass of milk
I will prepare with all my heart..
A SUPERB Chapati from a BIWI to her PATI..
I am a BAHU.... an obedient BAHU...to my SASU MAA..
Ohh and she will brag ... I am the best BAHU...
The best in India if not in the world...
I am so proud... What a chapati maker I am..
A super BIWI.. an obedient BAHU...
I will make superbb.... chapati...
The whole India will dance with me...
Dance in my kitchen with me....
But my SASUR requested for a Masala Chapati
And he wanted it for lunch... today
for dinner tonight and for breakfast tomorrow..
An obedient Bahu... I am.... A super Biwi I am..
Ohhh ...I am no MASALA CHAPATI maker...
Plain chapati... plain chapati thats what i learnt...
I searched for a recipe... MASALA CHAPATi...
Butter,Chilli and coriander powder..
I cook them all together...
Cumin seeds, vegetablas and GARAM MASALA..
Ohh la la la.... here goes the chapati masala...
Oppss... when everything is set..
My SALI comes to check....
AMMI JI.... AMMI JI... she called..
My MASALA CHAPATI is about to ready...
My pati.. my sasu maa... my sasur and my Sali
We all sit together..
My cooking smells good..
When MASALA CHAPATI is served....
They all smile and look at me...
WHAT?? IS THIS MASALA CHAPATI????
And we all dance on the kitchen floor....
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 12:21 PM UTC
A child wakes up , to mosquito bites,
and Christ-on-a-bike-it’s-diwali , the fiesta of lights.
the welcome vibes of halcyon tarried
as hugs and gifts and smiles are carried,
and waving her wrinkles mid-air ,daadi
says today! god , to his land was ferried.
Afar, the bronze herald of worship time,
the temple bell goes off in a celestial chime.
and cometh the priest , for the fire-ritual,
line my pockets now , come on , be spiritual.
but duh! your dhoti hast no pockets , saintly dummy;
tsk.. fret ye not , for it goes straight into my tummy.
mid-morning now , and mummy’s high-strung;
‘dust it well and dust it thorough and dust it till you burst a lung’.
‘garam pakode’ !! cries papa in his croaking tenor ,
‘but one by one’ and now he begins with the manners.
mummy is the last one , picking over the bones,
she always has been , for what a family she owns.
A muezzin somewhere cries the holy decree
heads bow down and a pigeon flies free,
from the onion dome , below the staccato claps
‘Ooparwala ! … ‘ the muezzin gasps ,
and ‘Ooparwala!.. ‘ a crowd chants in tow ,
and ‘Oops ! … ‘ the bird sheds it’s something and *****
soars high , and takes a bow .
hey presto! the night has come.
the moonless night of the homecoming lord.
sweetmeats and sugars and syrups and us ,
laddu-barfi , well , that strikes a chord .
Lakshmi , her owl , the glutton god with his mouse ,
revered an’ pleased an’ fed an’ flattered ,
and coaxed never to leave the house
while out there , bombs and crackers burst and batter.
The witch’s hour already , and the man ain’t home yet
the lord is home , to get things straight,
while the men all out on a greedy conquest;
pennies on the dollar , unwavering faith still,
for the beckoning bait .
A child wakes up , to mosquito bites
gone now is the carnival of lights.
a goddess fled , a father bled
a child scrapes off the waxy remains ,
the leftovers of candles ,pains, and no gains.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
Setoples garam, sejumput di jarinya
Dikulum masa mudanya, berani.
Bukan hanya menembak, menusuk
Melayangkan doa istri yang merindu
Menghapus sosok bapak, dari sang anak
Dikenangnya pandangan serdadu itu
Jarinya adalah maut, matanya adalah bidik
Senapannya adalah kubur, pelebur semua cinta
Juang adalah bahan bakar seruannya, Merdeka!
Bambu itu simbol perjuangan, ibu
Namaku akan seharum sukma bapak!
Saat kawannya berkawin, bunting, mati
Dia tetap bersolek layaknya gadis
Gincunya dari belanda, mengucur langsung
dari lubang pelornya tepat di jantung
Bedaknya dari tanah desa bapaknya dulu bergundu
Parfumnya alami dari pori-pori semangatnya berlari
Belum lagi perhiasannya,
Antingnya dari granat, meledak tepat di sisinya
Kalungnya adalah medali sebagai
pengingat maut, bergurau dengan nyawanya
Tiba saatnya dia berbaring,
lelah, terluka dan pusing
Menjadi guling yang dicengkramnya
Berselimut lumpur dan mayat
sebagai kasurnya, lelap.
Senja itu angin semilir bergema
Kenangan atau mimpi, dia berandai
Namun pecah ketika aku berteriak
Ibu! Sudahkah? Aku lapar!
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
"Mudahnya buat janji, semudah ingkar janji"
Ke utara, selatan
kau ikut
kata kau, asal ada aku ada kau.
Ada waktu
naluri wanitaku meragui
setiap kata yang menari
di belahan mulutmu.
Namun
apalah daya kerak nasi
berlawan dengan air.
Dan saat aku
membuka seluas-luasnya pintu
kau jadi penghuni
setia
untuk sementara.
Sehingga tiba satu ketika
langkah kakimu dihayun
menapak keluar
dari ruang yang kau huni ini
Ingatlah
bukan aku yang menjemput kau
menghuni ruang ini
dan bukan aku juga lah
yang menghambat kau pergi.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
CHAI GARAM CHAI
Millions of cups of TEA/CHAI each day, we Indians happily consume
It is almost a must every morning, evening and before we work resume
Lures us its aroma at home or when we pass by a tea-stall, tempting are its fumes
One of the most consumed drinks in India is definitely chai, anyone can this presume
Huge varieties there are, count one cannot; but the most famous I guess is Masala chai
Most Indians, specially Gujjus, this thoroughly enjoy; even foreigners must definitely it try.
Every morning a fresh cup of boiling chai makes your day; ah! that cup of "garma-garam chai"
My most favorites are the aadu-ilaichi (ginger cardamom) n Bawaji special, the fudhina-leeli-chai
Once you sip it, along with Bun-Muska, almost addicted you are, you get a "Chaska" true.
There is an art in concocting a good cup of chai; one must know how to it properly brew
Sadly I wasn't allowed to taste coffee or tea/chai when young, I tasted it, only when I grew
Tea here, is a drink old, but the Brits loved it n made it famous; so, chai is old tea is new
Armin Dutia Motashaw
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 4:59 AM UTC
i love the fact that most people
rather enter the concept
of karma rather dialectics
to argue their point - makes
emily austen seem like a nutcracker
of ideas to come from
ikea as the self-assembled semi-detached
heights, otherwise known as wuthering, heights
or the disco-ball done in mahoganny eyed splinter
shine - sheens the spot!
it's just so ****** blocked nose rotten,
the opposite of polite society,
a bit like the middle-ages... reigning
paranoia imported from a lost colony,
library cards of blue indian peasants
turned into pheasants that did the cancan dance
all of a sudden... miracles christ couldn't even forsee!
i'm free every saturday if you're hashtag up-for-it...
never mind... i'll leave my quote and oil my phone-number
for a missing mobile telepathic nuance on
when differentiating blue indians with garam masala
and red indians with mohawks - easiest game of all:
snakes & ladders, noughts & crosses... garam masala & mohawks.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 8:26 PM UTC
Palembang, 27 Maret 2017
Hari ini aku tak ingin berhenti menulis
Bagiku menulis itu sangat berarti
Aku bisa mencurahkan isi pikiranku tanpa aku harus berucap
Ucapanku terkadang tak didengar orang, kau tahu?
AH, bukan!
Ucapanku bahkan tak pernah didengar orang
Aku hanya batu, yang hanya dilangkahi orang setiap kali berjalan
Hari ini mentari bersembunyi di balik awan mendung
Namun panas teriknya masih bisa ku rasakan dikulitku
Aku hanya bisa berteduh di bawah atap kamarku
Padahal jiwa ini ingin sekali menari di bawah mentari
Padahal kaki ini ingin sekali tenggelam di pasir pantai yang kasar
Ingin sekali rasanya membawa diri ini ke air laut biru nan luas
Aku ingin sekali mengapung di air garam yang bening
Namun yang kulakukan hanya mengetik tulisan tak berarti
Hujan mulai turun
Apa daya aku hanya bisa menunggu
Aku terkurung di dalam dunia sendiri
AKu belum berani tuk berkelana sendiri
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
or like today, almost any other day like today,
but today i matched up two analogies
with cooking;
i once only stated that doing organic chemistry experiments
were like cooking,
broths of sweets and sours (esters and ammonia compounds
respectively) -
they did seem so at the time and still are,
while smashing vegetables dipped in liquid nitrogen against
the laboratory floor,
but today, almost like any other day like today
i started cooking a chicken makhani (indian butter chicken),
past the stage of frying onions, garlic-ginger paste,
past adding the spices: garam masala ground cumin chilli powder
cayenne pepper salt & pepper,
past the stage of adding butter, milk and crème fraîche,
and chopped tomatoes,
past the stage of then dipping the chicken in to let it poach for
more tenderness than if fried prior (as the recipe suggested),
then... when i noticed the spice colours diluted by the dairy ingredients
i peered into the culinary warlock’s cauldron and uttered
what fiction critics would have said of a bestseller spy novel...
‘mmm... the plot thickens.’
side dish? lemon rice.
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
Rumah joglo di tengah sawah.
Dengan cahaya remang yang berasal dari pojok ruangan ini.
Pemutar piringan hitammu baru selesai kau perbaiki.
Ku memilih untuk mendengarkan album Chet Baker Sings dengan vokalnya, seingatku itu milik mendiang kakekmu.
Gelas-gelas tinggi sudah kau siapkan, sebotol anggur dari Bordeaux sudah ku buka.
Makan malam kita sudah tandas, dua piring penuh berisi daging sapi yang sore tadi ku panggang, hampir matang penuh, bersama hancuran kentang yang sedikit dibubuhi garam dan lada, dengan saus krim jamur.
Jasmu sudah kau tanggalkan dan sampirkan di sisi sofa coklat tua itu.
Gaun hitamku masih rapih melekat pada tubuhku, namun rambutku, yang hanya sepanjang bahu, sudah ku urai, agar kau bisa menghirup harum bunga sakuranya.
Kita menari, pelan, sembari menengguk asam dan manisnya anggur Bordeaux itu.
Ku kira Chet Baker telah letih bernyanyi dan bermain trumpet, suaranya perlahan hilang, digantikan oleh suara jangkrik dari luar sana.
Aku pun lelah, ku rebahkan tubuhku di sofa coklat itu, menyandarkan kepala di dekat sampiran jasmu, menghirup bau cendana yang hampir hilang.
Kau menghampiriku, memelukku erat, menghirup leherku, pipiku, dan mengecup bibirku.
Pelan-pelan, satu per satu pakaian kita tanggal, di bawah cahaya temaram, ditemani suara jangkrik, kita melebur, melebur jadi satu.
Tanah Ubud, tak pernah gagal membuatku jatuh cinta, sengaja maupun tidak.
Jun 5, 2020
Jun 5, 2020 at 1:57 PM UTC
my hands believed in you
satisfied by little to none
I could have gave them to anyone
little white pedals laying stagnant on each fingertip
revelations of the flowers you helped blossom in my impotent heart
how can I explain something provoking veins inside the blood of my emotions
when I didnt even know blood flowed through anything but my physical body
a cemetary of memories lie abyss somewhere inside of me
like the joyfull living praised when there but never appreciated enough
until souls bid farewell
the hour of separtion came to me as something that was dream like
something that couldnt be real
a few days pass almost placidly flowing over my being
and then it comes
expected lament,
this piece of land inside me is not vast
containing many souls some meaningless and some worthy
rather it is appressed and compact with little space
for the memories at rest
intertwined helping me remember together
in yearning harmony
the grass is so green over every grave
the sun never sets
but the flowers have disappeared
yes
the flowers they are
dead
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 2:39 PM UTC
satu tangan menutup mata
satu tangan menutup telinga
belikatku bertahan kaku
tiap pijakan pelan, terseok
belum leluasa ku berlari
terpaan gelombang yang sudah-sudah
masih meninggalkan goresan dalam daging
dibantu merangkak, tapi dipaksa berlari
caramu mengenyahkan biru yang masih menyelubungiku
takut
pada lidah sangkalan beradu
bukankah lancang mencipta imaji semu
lalu menggantungnya pada tiang-tiang garam
berharap keras, tak begitu meleset pada manusia
sadar, tak se-Esa
namun jika Bapa memberi
siapa yang bisa menutupnya?
target apa, begitu mendesakkah?
soal pembendaharaan rasa
apalagi rancangan
telah kuserahkan padaNya
aku dungu & tidak mengerti, seperti hewan aku di dekat Bapa. Tetapi aku tetap didekat Bapa; Ia memegang tangan kananku.
Mar 14, 2020
Mar 14, 2020 at 7:48 AM UTC
Aaj sar par humare kam hai baal,
Par janab aisa hai haal,
Subah subah ki adrak waali chai,
Ek duje ko dekh hum muskai...
Thodi gaadi hai dheeme chalti,
Chaalis mein nahi woh furti,
Khaana ** na ** garam,
Par bhagwaan biwi rahein naram...
Na koi demand, na koi expectation,
Na koi command, na koi explanation,
Na koi ek dusre ke liye expression,
Aur life mein no irritation...
hum din shaanti se gujaare,
Bas yahin hai celebration...
Woh tumhara mere gussa hone par chuppi rakhna,
Woh na chahate hue bhi haath dho lena,
Woh tumhare liye aaloo ka parathe banana,
Aur raat mein jamkar taane dena..
Aur janab inn taano mein aisi kick hai,
Bina peg lagaye besud ** jayein,
Yeh pyaar ka naya silsilla hai,
Aur isimein dil rama hai...
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 12:29 AM UTC
Ye ragini besudh nahi
Aaj mera ye udaas mijaaz
ka upadeshak dhoondh
raha tha virah ki raaton ko,
lekin naa- umeedon ne
use nahi diya koi sukoon!
Dheere dheere arj kar-kar ke
jab bheeg gaya tha ye dil!
Tab ek anokhi kshamata sirf
aajamaane ke lie, nahi chaahati
thi kissi sitam ko rijhaana!
Maana ki hai ye ek anubhav,
jo ki ban chuka hai garam ashk
aur taiyaar hai in aankhon ko
bharane ke lie! Par hum nahi
chaahate koi guzaree hui raahon
ko dhona!
Isiliye agar tumhe yaad
aaye kissi pratishth hunar ki,
toh apna muskuraata hua
chehara humaare paas jaroor laana!
Kyuki tum phir chhu paaoge,
is dil ke dilaasa bhare shabdon ko!
-Shivpriya
#shivpoetesspriya
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 4:41 PM UTC
Sweet and savoury,
Smothered in rich tomato sauce,
Adding a pinch of spices like cumin, pepper and garam masala ;
Brings in a great combination of flavour and aroma,
Making baked beans smell so wonderful.
Healthy and super delicious,
Utterly addictive and irresistible,
Quick and easy breakfast,
Love to have it with Dejeunette Viennoise and Croissant along with a bite of cutlet,
One of my favourite morning delights on the dining table.
May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 7:27 AM UTC