Being politically correct , just to be in the rat race,
Helping a deserving candidate lose out on countless opportunities
Oh !! what a disgrace .


Political debates in a news chat room

Speakers galore , reasoning insane ...
Pointing fingers like
Mumma  'yeh '  Mumma ' woh '

      Mama  Makosa....
I wanna have a 'Samosa'
And the blah blah blah ....

The news reader in fits
Calls out,  time out .. in the chat room .


Politics in life

Fire in the mountain run run run
Don't stop , run ...
Take a right , a left .... no U Turn .
Watch out ... don't trip... Run.

MJ , playing out loud ....
"All I wanna say that they don't really care about us ...."

Lost the lyrics.........??

MJ again ....
"Heal the world make a better place for you and for me and the entire Human Race..."

Time to turn around
Hit the ground
Can't let the fire wipe out the beautiful village people and the flora fauna.
Face it finish it !!

Politics not my favourite cup of tea
Might as well savour some green tea .

Sitting around the patchy tree stumps at Sagar’s Cafeteria,
Campus was not solitaria*.
Listening to songs saved on our tiny phones, decade ago,
We devoured the sound of silence and the fields of athenrye
Together.

We lit mary jane and made merry singing along to ***** Gun
in broad daylight without the purview of uni cam puns.
Who cared if it was just a five-minute break from Hemangadutta
Or Sheeba’s hungry call for relief,
we made it seem wakeable in the dewy morns.

Sagar’s had the tastiest samosa, chicken puff
and Tiger biscuits so cheap we could fudge it in the lassi whuff.
Days and months went by hovering around Sagar than classes.
We never saved pennies, we spent bills on choora
from our pocket monies for bura.

1) I learnt that if life gives you lemons, then it is probably because it doesn’t want your life to be too diabetic. Thanks Lyf, Much Love.
2) It is good to be curious. Actually being curious is all you need to gain knowledge of any kind (quite literally, hah)
3) Thai food will never be good. Ever.
4) Ghaziabad is in Uttar Pradesh, who knew.
5) Alternative music is the one for me.
6) Benedict Cumberbatch will never be mine. I will have to die alone.
7) Fireflies can also be called ‘insects with a glowing tutu’ in Pritika World.
8) American Pie is actually not a movie on pies (yes, I am innocent child still)
9) Never settle for samosa, if you have pizza or sandwich.
10) Hippies are friendly people.
11) It is okay to love yourself before anyone else.
12) The dream for a world tour is 90% unrealistic unless you are offspring of Gates, Tata or billionaire daddies.
13) Google has 3 birthdays.
14) Wearing rings is the shizz and after some time, you’ll feel naked without them.
15) Making 11:11 wish works 46% of the times (yea, I calculated)
16) You feel alone even at a time when you’re messaging 10 people together. That is how social life is.
17) 18 is gonna come soon and the thought of being ‘legal’ makes you crazily excited as ****.

It's in the air, that kind of art
the rant hour -
khaki shorts come to roost,
sour dips for jibes,
venerable turns up the Oak:
and lo, from Mecca to Dacca,
it's raining theories
conspiracies, of how
in the days of yore
even the golden birds's
poo smelt pure;
It's all our deed
from the Saucer to the Sky;
Heil Leader! Now
lathis to the rescue
then long speeches and
many grins - (x)ollywood
the much hated,
whose songs cannibalized;
It's chai samosa time,
it's pakora time,
Bermuda triangle time.

yesterday I saw you.
today only your scent remains.
tomorrow, that too will vanish.

you said
the ache for home rumbles in your chest.
I tried to sooth it with words
in the absence of medicine
or a plane ticket.

when you left I moved,
became an immigrant
and I understood what it meant
to live without living.

I forgo the mall mehndi,
the astrologer on his maroon cushion,
order from the pani puri wala
a samosa and small talk -
for a moment
we breach liminality
but then I owe him thirty rupees
and I go alone,
sitting safe from summer heat
snack untouched.

I wait for the monsoon and hope
you will return for the mangoes,
perhaps then I can tell you
everything I meant to say
yesterday.

when the monsoon came
she cursed. She had been asking
those folks in the co-op
twiddling their thumbs and licking
the edges of their rupee notes
from the maintenance bills,
she’d ask them
to repair the terrace aching
and wheezing with water
from the early drizzles but
the treasurer preferred a Kashmir scarf
and the chairman a new scooter,
secretary painted his living room and added twenty rupees
for a samosa for the loyal watchman
and so she slept beneath flickering lights
hoping the wires didn’t blaze up,
consuming her whole.

Musa stands for banana
But his name sake was Furhana
His headwear folded like samosa
Not to be confused with mimosa
Yet the fold was like Koya's head towel
Even the fantastic Ayamu's downwell.
That said: Koya heckled with his sickle knife
Never failed in the field to sit and file
The blade to trim out the hedge's tendrils rife
Closed one eye to see the fence's profile
The cutting-hedge technology of fence
Continued without denouncing offense
Rarely reaching any end, the dense
Fence talk gains again as every day commence.

Beauty creation was his faint inclination
At the entrance of the tea plantation
Stationed near to the police station
Part of his task unasked in the division
Was standing and talking to the man on the bike
Talks like, the strike, the Labour wages hike,
How to dodge a strife for a fair bounty
With words coated with 'chondy-chandy sugar candy.
For its said, he can wear any colour, I-uhml-green or P-yellows
To send jaundice or dainties to the Poor-fellows.
The talk prolong as the baron mellows
Till the madam's call comes from the bungalows.

Back to Musa, sorry for the interruption, he was left behind the lines...
For names of Mayan, Maanu and Jaanu make a beeline
Like Beebi and Kaybee,  maybe the guy too, sounding Shanghai,
All are bonanza, for a due stanza.

Musa chirped with chops of English
And fizzed out the name of fish and dish
Proud that he worked even with some British.
Once he mumbled the name mom and mummy
To call out his humble wife to introduce
The visiting chummy colleagues, over there.
Her numb eyes goggled out of a slimy shawl to reduce
Her head to a crummy Kameez that beleaguered  on her.
Not knowing what his trendy husband is telling,
And why he is calling her before them, Asia instead of Aisha!
His friends knew her trouble and told her its alright
And that made her feel she is the same Ayichumma on her own right.

Once Musa stumbled on the name 'chips' at a shop in the city;
Ordered the same along with other civil society
While seeing it packed, he grumbled for his stupidity
And burst out, "O, just the Koya fried banana, that's aplenty in our vicinity".
The shopkeeper gave a laugh,
And there, Musa left in a huff!

I took this ******* a date to the Purple Pakora,
Lil did I know how much this girl would order,
I met her on tinder-loo, she orderd a vinderloo madras and a korma
What the actual tandoori duck ??  how many animals does this ***** wanna slaughter?  
  
I'm already thinking **** how much they gonna charge me,  
When she puts  an order in for another 12 oinion bhaji  

I could stop what was going on,  
Next thing I know she wants a side order of poppadom with extra ******* yogurt on  

Then she looks me in the eye an says " shall we get a starter coz I absolutely love a chiken tika masala  

Holy ****,,,,, ****,,,, god dam!!!  
Now to wants to try each different  flavor of naan

10 cocktails that didn't even touch the ******* coaster,
Then she goes " I'm on a diet. So I'll just have 1 vegetable samosa
  
Burn a hole in my pocket the size of the equator,  
And she didn't forget to tell me to tip the ****** waiter

After we left this girl wants to party
She goes I'll come with you if you get some charlie

All I got to eat was her sunbed barbecued punnani,  and that ******* tasted like a gone off seafood biriani,,

BEWARE!!!!

Thirsty for tasty spicy
Tardy latter days of visualisation
yearning of our souls, albeit impecunious
longing incessantly to own a *** of tarmasalata
Norms beheaded, of course we ain't the wretched son of a pauper
plastic spoon turns silver, someday the table will turn
we will own pakora and samosa
with a tantalising subtle lemony taste
oh-oh-one our language
But soon, we'll throw a birthday party
with hamburger patty
Rays on our green pasture
The sun will smile, moon will grin
Then, our murmur will transmute into voices
Quenched! our thirst for tasty spicy.

Life too a sharp turn
Causing our jungle of dreams to burn
We made so many plans
To witness, in our class,  live Clash of clans
Zoomed in on gossips and zoomed out for a tour of building we have been seeing for last 14 years
Soon the time will come to bid adieu with eyes full of tears
One hundredth piece of chocolate gave us unworldly pleasures
Oh-those-sweet reminisce are etched in our hearts as priceless treasures
Gobbling a pav bhaji filled tiffin with one fourth of each one's share is now a distant memory
Pulling out all stops to get one pattis and samosa was our definition of bravery
Aamchaska and chatarmatar had power to drive out our blues
Trend of lollipops became a strict no-no on the list of don'ts and do's
Bhelpuri, ice cream,  chanajor garam or chuski
All the uncles had different fan base
Our sweet request for extra chutney or cola ice stick
How they fulfilled them all always left us amazed
Morning gossip monger
Isn't a reality any longer
Decorating the black board with fresh pieces of chalks
That mirth was,  Jesus knows what
Fighting over duster with other classes
This year we missed out on all those chances
We made noise,  were shut by teachers
What's app group chats are silent, all thanks to some invisible creatures
" Learn rules like a pro, break them like an artist "
Our 'action plan' was more of a drawing made by caricaturist
Morning assemblies were a snoozefest
Afternoon next-day holiday announcements filled us with new zest
Board decorations or teacher's day preparation
Everyone's train ran on different tracks never arrived at single station
Christmas celebrations or children's day fetes
We oozed oomph in our new dresses
Out of nowhere,  we could see our dreams of living last year of school waver
Every night we sleep with what-the-hell-is-this-wetness tear
Never expected that Guy upstairs to be a scrooge
He snatched our happiness making us his offset stooge
"No still lakes but life demands waterfalls "
Our school journey is a perfect example of it
It is hear , mercurial highs and abysmal lows, did we hit
Myriad of emotions gushing through while I write
It's a miracle how black boards made our lives bright
This school was like our nest
Where little babies were nurtured with the best
Soon we will fly out like free birds up in the sky
No farewells for us please,  we will never say our school a goodbye 😘

The Hostess
Crowned in Afro-tribal headdress,
On her chest a Slavic tunic;
Appearing as a prophetess
Or a schizophrenic ******…

On her wrists ring Irish bangles—
Wrapped round her waist a bright sarong;
On her breast a pendant dangles
Like some Oriental gong.

Multi-kulti represented
As a woman, weirdly dressed.
Every ethnic group is feted
On arrival to the West.


          The Dinner
Everybody bring your dish!
The ethnic potluck has begun.
Afterwards your guts will wish
Your culture had remained as one.

Foods collide and almost mingle
In the cultural melting ***;
Yet it’s hard to find a single
Way to describe this mixed-up lot.

Curry mingles with Kielbasa
Chinese dumplings, Jello, slaw
Deviled eggs, the odd samosa
Beans and rice, cheap sushi raw.

Soul food, Kimchi, Spanish rice,
Pad-Thai, grits, potato salad;
Gastronomic paradise?
Or a nauseating ballad . . .

Out of many, not quite one—
You bravely burp. It’s quite diverse . . .
But as your stomach comes undone
Digestion goes from sad to worse.

E pluribus to Alka-Seltze®
Groaning in your bed at three:
Let it fizz and hope it helps, sir
Lest you doubt diversity…

I’m Diversity. I am strength!
Sings the undigested food.
Perhaps we all shall know, at length
If global change was for the good.

Cali
I've received your best
today

and
may I have another
please

'cause
that was a downhill
samosa

sizzling
from the rendering fryer
and laughing

thrown
against curves and turns
slalom

downhill
to the cafe bar
and order