Sunday, September 13, 2009

Three little gems

In this land of ours
The little boy
Asked his maulvi father
Why do trees have Hindu names?

The maulvi whacked him on the head
And said
Don't create a new set of problems

My uncle
Who was a Gaussian inspired economist
Said to me
A nation's prosperity
And true worth
Can be judged by the pedigree of
Her whores

I opened the door
Victor Hugo met me
And he was naked

Hugo had surrendered his clothing
To his valet
Who was not to return it
Until the day's writing had been compiled

Wednesday, September 9, 2009


He slept
Under the pine trees
Covering himself
With a blue tarpaulin sheet
To prevent scalding hot, bat droppings from falling on his face

Unknown to him
Every sunset
Thousands of bats
Flew many nautical miles across the sea
They returned in the morning

When he woke up
To their sunrise babble

Folded the blue sheet into a neat quadra size
Patted his own back
And said, how clever I am