"paan" poems
Tujhe chhoone par hai lagta
Tu jalti jwala re!
Tujhe niharne par lagta
Tu chaand ka tukda re!
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya
Ore Priya re!
Tere sang Tere sang ishq hua re!
Bana Dene jaisa lagti ** tum
Ek chitra!
Are munh tumhara ek
Paan ka patta
Bana Dee gayi lagti ** tum
Ek moorti!
Sach jaisi
Konark ki kala kirti
Tujhe padhne se lagti hai tu
Sach mein ek kahani re
Tujhe gaane see lagta
Tu ek geet re!
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya tune
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya toone
Ore Priya re!
**** bhar Teri
Rajnigandha ki khushboo
Teri chaal mein
Raj hansini ka chhand!
Barasne jaisa pyar tumhara
Madhu ki varsha!
Sabhi or hoti hai
Bas teri hi charcha
Tujhe tolne par
Tu lagti
Ek phool re!
Tujhe dhaalne par lagti
Tu kuchh rang re!
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya
Aisa Kya jadoo Kiya toone
Ore Priya re!
Tere sang Tere sang ishq hua re!
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 11:16 PM UTC
Flavored hukkas are passed around,
Alcohol and paan bring the mehfil alive,
The Ustad ji sits down and flexes his fingers,
He knows he’ll be working all night.
Dha dhin dhin dha, dha dhin dhin dha
Na tin tin ta
Ta dhin dhin dha,
Move the Ustad ji’s fingers on the tabla.
While with a veil on her face,
And feet dipped in and henna-colored,
Lips in cheap red lipstick covered,
She unfalteringly, gracefully enters.
Her steps are matched by the chhan chhan
of the ghungroos tied around her ankles so slender.
Eyes set on her, feast on her youth,
Just right for the taste of all her customers.
Bejeweled hands placed on waist,
She stands at the centre of attention,
She lifts a foot, readies to dance,
And begins the nightly convention.
Skillfully, perfectly, sensuously move
Feet well-trained since childhood days,
Harmonizing with the timbre
That the Ustad ji creates.
Tin tin na dhin na dhin na
On the tabla, experienced fingers beat.
Chhan chhan chhan chhan,
She dances, repeating the rhythm with her feet.
Metal bells strike against one another
And chhan chhan chhan-a chhan she goes,
Making breaths prance and jump,
As she strikes on the ground her heels and toes.
Then suddenly she stops and gasps,
Over disgruntled, impatient groans she tries
to hear the sound that flows in, only to her ears.
Several rooms away, a baby cries.
Naach! A voice booms,
Arey naach! More join in.
A glass of wine is shattered by an irritated one.
But she stands still, clutching her chest, frozen.
One sways up to where she stands,
For the veil covering her face, his hands dive.
He uncovers her, but is blinded by the sight of her beauty
And her tears that fill her kajal-smeared eyes.
She’s shaken back to reality as she looks all around.
Her sparkling pall is off her face.
She sees all those drunk men who’ve paid to watch her dance.
She knows she has to make the sound of the cries fade away.
So she stomps her feet on the ground till it hurts.
Hair flying out of braid, bangles clanging,
Anguish replaces her innocent loveliness,
The music in the air is now shrill, jarring.
Her steps match with the tabla’s rhythm no more.
But she dances, planting her feet so hard they weep.
She silences every sound with the noise of her ghungroos,
Praying that the night will lull her wailing son to sleep.
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
The remover of all obstacles,
O' Vighnaharta
I fold my hands and bow my head,
In prayer
You've always been my key pilot
O' Vinayaka
I come to you with all my heart
O' Lord of Lords
My knowledge comes from thee
In abundance, you've shed your blessings
Upon me
I offer my soul, my lifes all deeds
To thy feet
Hail O' Datta
I welcome you in my life everyday
At this Ganesh Utsav
I request you to visit me today
With your favorite dessert and flavouries
I've decorated a plate,
Sweet ladoos, modak, paan and durva
With this red velvet hibiscus garland and flowers
I am standing here waiting at the gate
In the temple, inside my soul
Where blossoms the energy to carryout my role
Dear Father,
You never disappoint your devotees
In this aeon of cycle, on this earth and beyond
You'll always be my protector
Coz my soul shares a devotional infinite bond
With you,
Ganpati Bappa Morya...
©sim
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
Lost in the desert at night, a maze of stairs reveals the myth.
Neon sign, beside a paan-red smile, pairs—revealing the myth.
Clotho has ringlets, Lachesis slanted eyes, Aisa laugh lines,
Weaving tapestry of rapturous affairs, reveal the myth.
Who plays the distant sārangī? Who pours the quenching nectar?
Falling into stride behind Inanna's heirs reveals the myth.
Those intimate moments trace the tangible warmth on her skin.
In proud destitution, a desire she wears: reveals the myth.
Sand trickles through his anxious fingers, the mirage disappears.
At dawn fugitive memories Tashir bears. The revealed myth.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 2:58 AM UTC
Kina kuj chal reha
Kina kuj hor chlna he
Eh dila di gal c
Mukadra di ban ke reh ***
Kujteri galti c
Kuj meri galti he
Baki rola sab jaata paata da
Jo ishq na pura ** sakde
Kuj tu dari c
Kuj me darda c
Kuj darde c sade maape
Me kiwe samjawa
Ki beet rahi mere naal
Nitt marda ha teri ik jhalak paan de lai
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 11:26 PM UTC
*** yir ******* skids outta
m'ah 'uckin feece!
god i love that place,
glasgow is like birmingham
of the north...
a rotten scow to nowhere,
unless it be a place that
spoke: deep-fried mars bar
for breakfast -
you scurvy worth of
the tangled sailor! ****
gods took to the twallop,
and i takes me to the
rool ups!
got a bargain with a shrimp
you belfast *****
my **** you 'av!
next time they sing: sweet dover,
i'll have you marrying the *****
cult of: shard!
ye storm ah heed!
**** me an' timber twice:
V fooking eye of ye, hire-crane!
******** twice,
three times removed
the drunk... huh?!
it's all plus minus with me by
now...
ha ha!
had a cousin, didn't say why,
cursed & numbed the cuss words
like a nun ought to know why...
so i says me:
lingua the leash - earn the ir -
softspot for the tucker-jacks
and the irish lepers: shauns they
called them...
he he...
look at me:
all smug and waiting
for brussel sprouts out the paan tree...
what's with these wallaby terms?
panchree? panna quinoa, panna cotta?
******* as clingy as those pepsoowongs,
or wangs or pepsoos.
as the english queers say
F F Θ, but then pull out a churchill -
and vey v girman vey such & such...
they and way become indistinguishable -
churchie and the welsh abbey become
one and the same with either V
as "peace", or the V and the welsh
longbowmen **** you...
v'eh point... wayward: too soon...
vuck!
wook?
wookie?
va va voom!
woonder-brum, brimming,
bra bra bra... ha ha ha...
dried it all off with the giggles...
then it became apparent:
the man settled for the dozen,
whether it was a dozen of ostriches,
hyenas,
bunches of lychee,
leaks,
bulgarian strippers -
or worse...
a dozen of english rhetoricians,
notably gay;
**** what a gamble.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 10:38 PM UTC
A Monginis Cake Shop flex hangs
above a hardware and electronics store
and a man in front of it
speaks loudly into his phone,
trying to explain this his location,
slapping the other hand on his forehead.
Another man, this one on a scooter
going slower than a public transport bus
has his helmet resting in the front
between his feet
instead of on his head.
(Is this blatant disregard for life
or staggering confidence about it?)
An old Nauvari-clad woman
bearing a big vermillion stain on her forehead
innocently spits her paan on a
Clean Mumbai, Green Mumbai graffiti.
I get up to go stand
at the front door
and someone else takes my seat.
They will see a skinny girl
typing furiously into her phone
this very poem.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
I speak from the landfills, dumpsters and gutters
I speak from the corners you ignore
Because you don't want to acknowledge your contributions
You know you add to it more
Everytime your car passes
Your inner voice rants and screams
But you look the other way
And scrunch your nose up silently
No one wants to make a move
While we live in our fantasies
Away from the rag-pickers and sewage cleaners
Who segregate our waste for a mere salary
Who clean our **** while we throw some more at them
Who are not treated as human
We just want to get rid of things so we throw
Throw on the road, in the rivers and lakes
In the forests, in other peoples' place
We urinate and spit red paan on walls
We do our business on railway platforms
We live in a such a mess
We are such a mess
Our ideology is as filthy as these places
So I'm sorry, for such a disturbing poem
But it's time you better be disturbed
"Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny..."
70 years ago, these were Nehru's words
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
Thanks heena ji
Supne de wich aan lai
Menu ghut ke haffi paan
Lai
Menu seene de naal naal
Lag ke ron den lai
Bahut bahut thanks sapne wich aan lai
Sala sakoon ja mil gea hug krke
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
INDIA is the coolest place
Being here is not a disgrace
Home of Bollywood
Indian version of Hollywood
Delicious , mouth watering food
Biryani makers my mouth drool
And no one should forget Chaat, Paan and sweets
It is seriously worth taking a tour
home of Taj Mahal and many more
it has the best judiciary to make sure no one breaks the rule
Apples in Kashmir are the best
Once you eat one you won't rest
do you know what I am talking about?
Yes, it is my country INDIA
Mar 23, 2020
Mar 23, 2020 at 9:13 AM UTC
Meri koshish hamesha hi
Bekar *** he
Pehla tenu paan di
Te ***
Tenu bhulAn di
Mar 14, 2018
Mar 14, 2018 at 6:08 PM UTC