"samosas" poems
I believe in one church.
I believe in an inter-racial and unbiased church of many nations.
I believe in one church of many traditions.
I believe in one church not hemmed in by history or by man-made borders.
I believe in a God for whom his pallet of skin colours reflects his love of diversity.
I believe in God-given racial difference.
I believe in one creator God who made all humankind equal.
I believe in Christ’s one church that reflects our maker's love of difference.
I do not believe in uniformity.
I believe in the Christ’s common language of love for one another, for neighbours and for enemies that transcends local dialects.
I believe in one sundry collection of priests who are called by Christ to serve one God together, saved by His one sacrifice once and for all time.
I believe in the promise of one resurrected church drawn from all nations, from every generation to meet her bridegroom, Jesus Christ.
I believe in one eternal wedding feast at a table prepared by God which features everything from the finest vegetable samosas to the richest steam puddings.
I believe in one extravagant Father who has built one massive mansion with many rooms so all his people can come and dwell together.
I believe in God's Kingdom come.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
(1)
There’s one thing I must get off my chest
that’s bothered me now
even 50 years on
with the passage of time –
my English teacher then
she always told me when I grumbled
homework was too difficult,
she’d tell me: “That’s a piece of cake”
And I’d go home discombobulated how
anyone could eat paper
or homework
and she said this not once, but every time:
“It’s a piece of cake”
(2)
And my parents and I looked at it
every which way and from every point of view
and concluded in our Perfect Ancient Native language:
*“This English teacher is a loony. She is wooly-headed.
She is the lamb Mary lost, silly and muddle-headed.
How can homework be a piece of cake?
Anyway, we don’t eat cake – we eat samosas.”*
(3)
And yet the English teacher would put her nose
up in the air
and remonstrate: “It’s a piece of cake!”
Oh yeah, would you like tea with it?
Now, my parents, bless their Ancient Souls,
have gone on into the next world
And I’m left wondering about the secret madness
of that English teacher
who’d ask me to eat cake when I expressed genuine concern…
Well, my parents have passed on, as I said,
and I’ve moved on
as is plain and radiant to see
to master idioms and vocabulary
Punctuation, the catenative verb and Usage;
and, as for that wooly-headed English teacher,
I’m sure she’s moved on into
a comfortable nuthouse
where the staff makes her eat her cake,
and make her think she can have it too -
cos that’s what they do to nuts, and such instances
(4)
And now that I have got that off my chest,
I can comfortably resume memorizing
Volume 3 of theOxford Dictionary
as I perambulate
and copy 100 entries from Fowler’s “Modern English Usage”
as I victulate
which is all part of my nightly ritual
since she told me to do so some 50 years ago
(cos I happened to look at her Union Jack knickers
when she sat high on the table, and I stood up *****
cos that's what they made us do in the cinemas)
- and that helps to put me into a state of dormancy, to hibernate
till the sun ushers in a new day for me –
and a new cake for that wooly-headed English teacher,
she, I can presume with certainty,
elegantly reposed and superannuated
Now, I’m glad I’ve got this off my chest
and mastered my idioms and phrases
and I can go eat my samosas
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
I am ashamed, Sister!
I live in a house, I want to renovate.
Yours was bulldozed, now you live in a tent.
I need a new car, trade the old one away.
You lost your feet in a bombing yesterday.
I sleep so cozy and warm in a king size bed.
You find comfort in the cold hard floor instead.
Something doesn't work out I'll complain to everyone.
While you hide your tears when you lose someone.
My freezer is full with samosas and pies.
Your tummy sounds are muffled by rockets and cries.
I open my fast with plenty food in my plate.
You are thankful for that single date.
I do some chores my back is sore.
You lost your sons your pain is much more.
My Eid clothes are bought, few hundreds gone.
You were forced to leave with the clothes you had on.
I need a few holidays throughout the year.
You won't abandon your land despite the fear.
I have everything yet I still want more.
You just want peace, the end of this war.
Despite all this you are closer to Allah then I'll ever be.
So I am ashamed sister, ashamed for being me!
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 2:50 PM UTC
YUMMY YUMMY IN MY TATTOOED TUMMY
I like eating very much, call it a passion coz obsession sounds too mad.
Give me a sandwich tuna mayo one sliced tomato on bread times two.
Not enough!
Time for chicken donner on nan with everything on: hot sauce, salad cream with salad, peppers too, Jalapeno style. Add an order for onion barges, samosas and chips in pita bread with mild sauce on.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!
Half an hour later, an Italian beckons. His pizza looks cool! I say three types of meat, sliced, on top. Extra cheese, deep pan and two types of olives. Munchy time and yes, I enjoy this meal.
Later… What next? English fish and chips with salt and vinegar and a drop of gravy. No mushy peas, I hate them! I’ll take two fish cakes on the side. Traditional English grub down the hatch. Then meat and potato pie on a muffin. Careful not to burn my mouth! Did that before.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!
Time for some American influence, supersize me! Huge portion of fries, mega big burger and a litre of strawberry milkshake.
I’m multicultural in my diet. Foreign people are cool when it comes to their cuisine. I love Norwegian apple juice, as I need a drink after eating their goats’ cheese on rough white bread.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!
Chinese crispy duck is desirable, just like egg fried rice and prawn crackers. All available food is welcome, I’ll eat your left over’s on my trip of eating.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
The last time I had seen this particular cousin of mine, I was still in college and he had a head full of hair. In between, there had been three funerals, two weddings and four births in our Trojan royalty of a family. I had been a university graduate for a year, and the prospect for a job, a decent one at that, had started to grow dimmer by the day. He asked, “Will you tutor my daughter?” “Yes!” I said. And we set out immediately. He, on his bike and I, on my motorcycle following him. We took a right turn at the famous landmark of the statue of demoness Putana, sitting on the grass with her ***** out and legs spread forward. He introduced me to his wife and daughter. Telling them to stand side by side, he told me, “She's only eleven, but look at her! Already equal in length and width to her mother, who is no delicate petal herself. Do you think you can teach her GK?”
The universe wasn't made with dissent. Plus, the chicken samosas were really delicious. I tried on a grin while the overachieving pre-teen bustled around the room showing me her accolades for painting, singing, studying. As I left he pointed at a tree, “Do you know what tree is that?”
“Bael?” I answered thoughtfully.
“Apple. That's an apple tree.”
“Oh! Does it bear fruits?”
“Not in this climate!” He laughed out loud.
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 3:17 AM UTC
We both live in Mumbai,
He is Harish, I am Jai.
He lives on the pavement,
Next to my luxurious apartment,
He lives in a shack with metal covered with tarpaulin roof,
It has a T.V dish and WIFI
Mine is hi tech and fire proof.
He sells Samosas on streets and trains,
I am a CEO of a huge company and its top brains.
He rides a small scooter,
I move in a a posh chauffeur driven car,
We are both dressed according to our status.
But, life is ludicrous,
He is always carefree, laughing and most happy,
Whilst I am always stressed and snappy.
He sells 4000 to 5000 samosas a day,
Free, sometimes by midday,
He gets a profit of rupees one for each samosas he sells,
Mostly he gets orders to deliver on his cell.
He earns as much as I do,
Makes me seethe red and blue,
He is his own boss,
Net income, no tax, no loss,
While I slog day and night for others,
Thinking of it makes me shudder.
He is even the owner of the house I live in,
My company has rented from him,
He even owns two more houses in the neighbourhood within,
And a garage not far,
Where it services our company's cars.
Life's like that.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 7:02 AM UTC
Ah, those popular wishes of
giving the fat a trim
Beauty is now the
monopoly of the slim!
Sinuous and slender
The hourglass figure
The thinner, the better.
Dieting and slimming
down tricks
of course selling like hot
cakes
Tis a pity, she can't eat to
her heart's content and
desire
for rounded figures they
no longer admire.
But as long as
scrumptious samosas
keep frying in pans
and delicious pizzas
keep baking in 'em' ovens
it'd be hard to keep the
****** calorie count
or to live in fear of the
expanding waistline
mount.
Ah, those mouth-
watering deep-fried
kebabs
are entirely to blame for
my yo-yo dieting!
Gosh to cut down on
cheese and butter slab
is one tough way to get
rid of body flab.
This war against weight
is weighing upon her
mind,
instead of being simply
chubby and straight
We gotta maintain teen
contours and curves we
find!
You do know this is a
war you've got to be
winning.
It's those extra pounds
and not the war you
have to be losing.
Or the other skinny
lasses will be smirking,
grinning.
Ah, but all young ladies
must as well beware:
Dragoness Anorexia's
engulfing lair
or how her crony Bulimia
too can ensnare!
So pals better be about ill-
health more cautious
rather than being overly
so weight-conscious. :)
You can be loved despite your plump weight
I've seen many a curvy plus size woman
admired and adored by her soulmate.
So dears don't overeat or starve yourself
You don't have to be a tiny elfin fairy or elf.
Oct 26, 2022
Oct 26, 2022 at 7:59 AM UTC
A home away from home,
Is how I merily define a school.
Running in silent corridors,
Not wanting to go in morning assemblies,
Finishing lunch while teacher's teaching,
Passing chits when they caught us gossiping.
Our tiffin boxes were empty before recess,
Fun was snatching other's lunch then.
Years later don't know will these be remembered or not,
But those 'samosas of canteen' will really be missed a lot.
When teachers said " go out if you don't want to study"
We looked at each other to ask if they are ready.
We will really miss kabaddi and volley ball matches,
Between seniors and juniors.
Those lovely days of early ages,
And the open books with curly pages.
I will really miss each and every class,
Whether nursery or twelfth.
We will really miss,
The boring exercise of Saturdays,
And the 'Arora patties' on roadways.
We were sent to gain knowledge,
But we had all sorts of fun and games.
To teachers sending us out of class was a punishment,
But for us it was full source of entertainment.
Those lazy mornings and the lame reasons for not going to school,
Those fading school uniforms and opened shoe laces,
Those half opened eyes and closing school gates.
Few months later all won't be there.
Just a cherished memory,
Is going to become.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC
The phones stopped ringing ,
my mobiles run out of bat ,
and the clock keeps ticking,
tick tick tick Tok .
and as I pull the covers more hours slip away .
The rain won’t stop falling and the winds blowing a gale ,
as I head out to the churches with porch lights ablaze ,
There’s a choir down town ,
its time to come shine ,
for now it’s time to come and sing !
The lights are all a blazing the trumpets are on tune ,
and the rain just keeps on falling on this sunny afternoon.
Yet all I’m wishing is all I want ,
and there are beautiful heavenly voices coming from the front .
I’m just standing there with tears in my eyes with ,
mince pies and samosas cups of coffee and cake ,
and they are all busy chatting so full of love and grace .
The Christmas tree with it’s pritty lights behind the pull pit lies ,
with happy faces all around it handing out samosas and mince pies ,
The doors closes and the roads are all quiet ,
the clock keeps on ticking in my room ,
I turn over ,
Put out my light and all there is ,
Is you
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
We believe in one trans-national church.
We believe in an unbiased, inter-racial church of many nations.
We believe in one church of many traditions.
We believe in one church not hemmed in by history or by man-made borders.
We believe in a God for whom his pallet of skin colours reflects his love of diversity.
We believe in God-given racial differences.
We believe in one creator God who made all humankind equal.
We believe in a church that reflects her maker's love of difference.
We do not believe in uniformity.
We believe in the common language of love for one another, for neighbours and for enemies that transcends local dialects.
We believe in one sundry collection of priests who are called to serve one God together, saved by one sacrifice once and for all time.
We believe in the promise of a resurrected church drawn from all nations and all generations to meet her bridegroom.
We believe in one eternal wedding feast which features everything from the finest vegetable samosas to the richest steam puddings.
We believe in one extravagant Father who has built one massive mansion with many rooms so that all his people can come and dwell together.
We believe
in God's Kingdom come.
Amen.
Feb 2, 2022
Feb 2, 2022 at 9:42 AM UTC