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HOSHIYAR HOUND
| Posted on April 8, 2009 at 9:25 PM |
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Hoshiyar hound was hairy,
Hoshiyar hound was scary,
Hoshiyar hound had horrible jet black hair,
He looked like a cousin of the frightful Bhalu bear.
The terrified Hari horse galloped away,
Dodo donkey, choked on his bray,
The alarmed frog was swooped up by a hawk,
The other creatures froze and suspended small talk,
This rejection made Hoshiyar heart broken,
His sad hairy spirit just wouldn’t be woken.
He sat under a tree and tried to sing a song,
He tried to fathom why, things went wrong.
Seeta squirrel heard Hoshiyar’s baritone,
She twitched her tail and offered him a cone.
“Stay where you are,” she said, scuttling home,
She returned with hair brush, gel and setting foam.
Seeta tied Hoshiyar’s hair in rows,
And rows and rows, of colourful bows.
Around his neck she tied a scarf,
Which amused the doggie, made him laugh,
This punk hairdo, his change of face,
Lent Hoshiyar a certain grace.
He was applauded wherever he went,
He made heads turn, many torsos bent.
They liked his look, they shook his paw,
The poodles giggled and kissed his jaw.
Hoshiyar hugged Seeta, and opened a shop,
He is now a seller of soda pop.
Seeta is his partner, advisor and more,
No task for her is ever a chore,
And every night, at eight twenty two,
Seeta refashions Hoshiyar’s hairdo!
FAKIR AND FIFI
| Posted on April 8, 2009 at 9:10 PM |
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In a jungle prone to flood,
With rivers full of healthy rudd,
There was a fox-hole under the root,
Of a verdant healthy bamboo-shoot.
Fakir was a handsome, somber fox,
Who roamed at night amongst the rocks,
He spoke to no one, so nobody dared,
To befriend him, they just silently stared.
The only animal that Fakir fox liked,
Was small and bony with little wings spiked.
Fifi flying fox, soft and meek,
Had a most peculiar streak,
She lived beside a bumble bee,
And was as restless, as a wave at sea.
On full moon nights, on an inverted pail,
Fakir would sit and tell Fifi a tale,
Fifi hung on his every word,
And really enjoyed all the stories she heard.
The animals unable to fathom this bond,
Gave up and went for a swim in the pond.
And then on a cloudy drizzly day,
Fakir got a foot-ball and asked Fifi to play.
Fifi was nervous, she slipped on the moss,
That made the fox most terribly cross.
He scolded, she jittered, until alas and alack
Fakir gave Fifi a resounding smack!
Shocked the animals conferred and then
Decided to banish the fox to his den.
It started to rain and the animals dispersed,
The thunder growled and dark clouds burst.
It rained for four days without interruption,
The river overflowed causing a disruption.
The river broke banks and oozed out mud,
Fifi lost her claw-hold and fell into the flood.
The animals panicked, they watched looking grim,
For they all knew that the flying fox couldn’t swim.
Fakir was busy clearing his den,
Trying to save, his floating tin men,
He heard Fifi’s cry as he retrieved a paint box,
Help! Help! she wailed, Save me Fakir fox!
The fox was a swimmer, good at life saving,
He dived into the water, setting the animals raving.
Fakir spied the foot-ball, floating in the flood,
It looked old and battered, covered in mud,
Fifi grab the foot-ball, shouted Fakir giving chase,
But Fifi was waterlogged, except for her face.
The fox pulled and fought, he swam with all his strength,
Urged on by the animals, and then at length,
Fakir clamped his tail in Fifi’s little jaw,
Grabbing the ball he paddled with his free paw.
The crisis passed and Fakir fox was praised,
A party was held and a toast was raised,
And as a mark, of her deep affection,
Fifi presented Fakir, with her ribbon collection.
Fakir grinned then, for the very first time,
His vulpine features looked gentle and sublime
The animals danced, holding paws delighted
Around the silver pond, the moon-beams had lighted.
GRASSHOPPER
| Posted on March 25, 2009 at 9:22 AM |
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Grass hopper, Grass hopper, papery wings,
Long, funny limbs and jerky swings,
Dancing in the needles of early sun rays,
Feeding on dew drops, singing in the haze,
Hovering in the air in noiseless sound,
Gleeful ballet and zooming around,
Grass hopper, Grass hopper, springing in the air,
Scaring the sparrow, alerting the hare,
Whirring through the garden like
An emerald sound wave,
Dashing and dodging, so urgent and brave.
WHEN NIPPER NIPPED NIPPY
| Posted on March 18, 2009 at 2:27 PM |
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Please listen while I fill you in
About a snappy pup, mean and thin
Nipper was the doggie’s name
His lack of manners, a total shame
His troubled mother did her best
To treat him gently like the rest
But Nipper it was clear to see
Had a problem with conformity
He bit the hand that fed the pack
Was always primed and ready for attack
“Nipper,” his mum would warn him often
“You are reducing your chances for adoption!”
At six weeks old
The pups were sold
All except Nipper, for his lack of manners
Put a spoke, in the selection spanners
When hope diminished and Nipper had grown
Soon after he developed a strong jaw-bone
A nervous family timidly drove up
And asked if there was a procurable pup
Thus Nipper despite his manner less past
Found a home, leaving everyone aghast
This lucky break, didn’t prevent his jaw
From snapping daily, three times or more
The gentle people who gave him digs
Were unused to dogs, they reared pigs
A domestic pet they had never before had
Nipper was the first and such a cad
They had no experience with the quirky features
Of snappy, ill-tempered, little creatures
When Nipper began to devastate
They excused it as a canine trait
They loved him dearly, their temperamental pet
And took him by car, to Mrs. Oomes, the Vet
Nipper hugely enjoyed the ride
On getting to the Vet, he would skulk and hide
In the same city, beside a busy snackette,
Lived Nirupendra Singh, with his beloved golf set
Nippy, as he was fondly known
An excellent golfer, he was prone
To bouts of utter and deep depression
About fear of having to give up his obsession
“Playing golf,” he often told Nupi his wife,
“Is the only focus of my life.”
The media pursued the golfer like a bear
They imposed a lot but Nippy didn’t care
They trailed behind him to the rooms
Of the lady Veterinarian, Mrs. Oomes
You may wonder why Nippy should visit
A vet, was he in any way deficit?
The answer is simple, it was for Poach
His lethargic, wee-dog, the size of a roach
Every so often, Poach’s plumbing rebelled
Churned up his stomach, its contents expelled
Necessarily Nippy spent several noons
With the sickly Poach, at Mrs. Oomes
One such noon, when Poach had a blip
Nippy was due at a golf championship
Nupi was missing, had gone out for the day
So Nippy desperately called Gaitonde
Gaitonde was willing, he promised to get
His car and transport Poach to the vet
That is how the dogs met at Oomes
They arrived almost together at her rooms
The golf championship was quite a breeze
Nippy won with graceful ease
Then as he collected his silver cup
His thoughts wandered to his nauseous pup
Had he been selfish and let Poach down?
He thought of his pet with a deepening frown
Nippy decided to make a dash and try
To make amends, and to mollify
Poach wagged madly to see his master
He had been given some oil of castor
Nipper saw Nippy and the newsmen approach
He watched Nippy bend and pat his Poach
Nipper disliked Nippy at very first sight
He strained on his leash to get a good bite
Meanwhile it was Nipper’s turn to be seen
By the Vet, Mrs. Oomes, who looked slightly green
Nipper was not her favorite client
Always angry, far from pliant
Nipper’s mistress tried but was unable
To lift her dog up on to the table
Gallant Nippy, chivalrous and bold
Offered to help, lend a strong handhold
With the newsmen agog and closely watching
He approached the dog, alert and crouching
Nippy grabbed the snapping wreck
Roughly by the scruff of his neck
Then he paused a second to cough
In that weak moment… Nipper nipped his finger right off!
The tip of it flew into the air
And landed gently under Oomes’s chair
The camera caught the fingers flight
From detachment to completely out of sight!
Nippy stood there numb and rigid
Blood gushing from his severed digit
The plastic surgeon Dr. Perse
Was unsympathetic and rather terse
He hated all this media zest
Interrupting his precious noon time rest
After several attempts to attach the tip
He gave up and made an offer to clip
The finger to Nippy’s thigh to graft
The golfer decided that this was daft
The media persons frowned and said,
“This doctor is surely losing his head
“Nippy has to be up to scratch
In two months, for the next golf match!”
Nippy abandoned fingertip and Perse
He couldn’t play golf, what could be worse
His dreariest nightmare had come to stay
He blinked back tears as he thought of the fairway
A month passed by without significant change
Many cures were tried, some quite strange
Poach whined one day and produced an odd ‘yip’
He jumped on Nippy’s lap and licked the finger tip!
Nupi screamed, she created a furor,
But this magical lick, was what initiated the cure
The result from then, was pleasing in the extreme
The finger started to recover like a dream
So ‘Nipper nipped Nippy’, it is fair to say
But that didn’t keep old Nippy away
He returned to the course like a furious cyclone
Despite ring finger, reduced by half a bone
Nippy soon had the divots flying
The cameras in place and each one vying
For a zoom in, on Nippy’s brand new grip
With its famous missing finger tip!
GIRI
| Posted on March 18, 2009 at 2:16 PM |
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Mighty Giri was king of the herd,
An original romantic, he loved Bulbul bird.
He neglected his duties and instead,
He wrote love sonnets in his head.
Smitten and mushy, and by love blinded,
Giri became most absent minded.
The careless Bulbul was very amused,
She teased Giri hugely, for she was used,
To baiting the suitors on her list,
Then suddenly vanishing into the mist.
Bulbul was smart she wanted to study
And this she confided to her elephant buddy
She promised to leave him a reminder to cherish,
But without her, Giri knew he would perish.
Soon it was time so Bulbul packed her things,
She kissed the weeping elephant and flew off on silver wings.
Giri watched until she was a dot in the sky,
He cried hot tears as he waved goodbye.
The grieving King elephant abandoned his post,
The herd left reluctantly, heading for the coast.
Giri yearned, he fretted he sighed and he wept,
Until the worried monkey Kalandar leapt,
Upon his back and gave him a shake
?Get up,? He said, ?and look for Bulu?s keepsake.?
Giri wiped his eyes and honked his trunk,
He lifted himself from his tear drenched bunk,
Then sticking close to the sympathetic monk,
He started this search, from the dugout of the skunk.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
Up in the mountain, along the river?s flow.
The elephant was certain that he would spot,
What Bulu had left him, like a shot.
Then one morning as the monkey sat flossing,
Upon Giri?s head, as they cleared a crossing,
Giri stopped, he stared, moved back,
?cause lying there on the railway track,
Was a perfect, enchanting light blue egg
Within squashing distance of his great foreleg!
And strewn near it, gently touched by the breeze,
Lay Bulu?s tail feathers, as vivid as you please!
The elephant danced, he jiggled, he paced,
While monkey got jolted, nearly displaced.
And then with an almost graceful skip,
A twist, a turn and a final fillip,
Giri landed near the egg and then the hunk,
Encircled it lovingly with his velvet trunk.
He wept happy tears, he fussed and he cooed,
And from that moment, to this egg he was glued.
The egg was unremarkable, as bird?s eggs go,
But to Giri it had a cosmic glow.
Without food or water the elephant lay sprawled,
With Kalandar getting increasingly appalled,
And then one day, it began to rain,
Thunder was heard? and the whistle of a train!
The noise disturbed the grazing cattle,
It made the rail track shake and rattle,
The monster train rounded the bend,
Giri lay still, trying to pretend,
That nothing untoward was afoot,
?Get up!? screamed monkey, ?Or you?ll go ka-put!?
This cargo train was on a fine mission,
It carried encyclopedias, the latest addition.
The engine driver was in a great hurry,
Delivering the books was his immediate worry,
By slamming the brakes, he was just able to manage,
To avert gory bloodshed and certain damage.
He hopped off the train raving and ranting,
He ran towards Giri, frothing and panting.
But when he heard, the touching story,
He applauded Giri, and covered him with glory.
The driver then parked his train right there,
With it?s black nose almost touching the rear,
Of the prone, dutiful and loyal beast.
The driver built a fire and organized a feast.
Many months passed, without a peep from the bird,
Giri sang the sweetest egg-lullabies ever heard.
The driver and the monkey helped with egg-sitting,
They became close friends, as was truly be-fitting.
Then one day, a new hope was born,
The wind whispered,
?The educated Bulu will be back by dawn!?
Giri had a mud bath, he washed till he shone,
He hugged the precious egg and waited for the morn.
When Bulu arrived, educated and bright,
She was in for quite a fright!
As she flew past the railway track,
She spied Giri lying there, unmoving and slack!
Bulu crash landed on his great head,
Saying, ?Oh Giri, my dear, you looked quite dead!?
Giri smiled widely, his face disjointed,
Then gently uncurling his trunk, he pointed,
To the light blue egg, the focus of his life,
He yearned to ask Bulu to be his wife!
The Bulbul was clever and newly enlightened,
Her interpersonal skills were honed and heightened,
She puffed out her feathers and straightened her scarf,
She took a deep breath, to suppress the laugh,
Which was starting from, the tips of her dainty toes,
And threatening to escape from her delicate nose!
?What is that? That bluish orb?
And who gave you this, looking after job??
?That?s your egg, Bulu, its what you left me,
I?ve loved and cherished it, as well as you can see!
?That?s a pebble!? Bulu said with a wiggle,
?I left you my tail feathers!? she disclosed on a giggle.
The dam burst then and Bulu bird laughed,
While Giri lay blushing, feeling quite daft.
Bulu scented the air with the kisses she blew,
Blushing Giri chewed on a sprig of bamboo.
Then making the most brilliant decision of her life,
Bulbul bird agreed to be the elephant?s wife!
