Mr Sun, how are you? --- and other shorts

We should have been the children of our time

But someone stopped the clock

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Every time he speaks,

The words reverberate

Causing indigestion

Among the high and mighty

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It's Eid

The solitary moon has been spotted by the clergy

Won't someone invite her for the lunar festivities?

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The trees have been practising, walking

Now they take tiny steps out of the city

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Night falls, the waiters rinse tumblers, clean tables

Dump the discarded arguments into the garbage bin

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Lord Krishna sat at the conference table in the boardroom

He smiles at how good v/s evil is being arbitrated these days

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Even as she stared into the mirror

Someone opened the door for her

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Headache, headache, please go away

Come again, to my enemy's head

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In my next life, I want to have a leitmotif

From the moment I exit my mother's womb

For starts, I don't want to be born in a hospital

For ends, I don't want to die in one

It makes the rest of living, sickly

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The government has decided to measure

The proliferating hatred in our land

All those in the favour of this idea

Please punch your neighbour's nose

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He always sings Malkauns

After he gargles his mouth

With polluted Ganges water

And a bit of earth, mixed in it

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The elephant fell in love with Juliet

When Juliet chose not to reciprocate

The elephant broke his heart

With a big bang that caused remorse

Among lovers all over the planet

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He wants to celebrate the next Dipawali on Jupiter

With a comet that gleams through the sky

Can he?

Will he?

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He plants a word in the river

It drowns

And becomes an underwater forest

When no one is looking

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Mr Sun, how are you?

I don’t know.

Are you kind of hot? Would that be a fair description?

I don't know.

How were you born?

I don't know.

Do your parents love you? Did they, ever?

I don't know.

How long have you been the sun, Mr Sun?

I don't know."

I've a complaint against you. Why do you make me sweat so much?

I don't know.

Do you know there are people who have sun stroke because of you?

I don't know.

Don't you know how potent your sun-rays are? Still?

I don't know.

What will you do when the sun-rays get weaker?

I don't know?

Will they go weaker?

I don't know.

Mr Sun, don't you think, you've to give me some kind of answer.

I don't know.

Are you afraid of darkness?

Yes.

Five mantras for Dussera day

1.
Thought for the day: Lets privatise the government



2.
Fate of a poet: Tughlaq becomes monarch. Amir Khushro prefers death.


3.
My niece who is a software engineer saw the sea for the first time
She said: If we create an algorithm-based artificial intelligence machine
It will snychronise the 9.5 million waves


4.
My friend, called
Khari-Bholi by her parents
Started a restaurant chain all over North India
She officially named it: Hindi
In Hindi, she served the following meals: Awadhi, Bagheli, Bhojpuri, Bundeli, Chhattisgarhi, Garhwali, Harauti, Haryanvi, Kumauni, Lamani, Malvi, Marwari, Mewari, Nimadi, Pahari, Rajasthani, Sadan and Urdu.
Every time a gourmet was served on your table
A sound chip embedded inside the plate spoke to you in the dialect you ordered

5.
When Ravana has a headache
Does he have one crocin for his rakashasa body
Or one crocin per head

Laila Majnu and other shorts

1.
When she saw the sea, she was appalled
Shouldn't the waves be covered in a veil



2.
Oh
If only, I could afford a Kiyonabu-Shakaru print
Instead of a cheap kimono
And miniature tea cups
From the duty free


3.
Seeing the empty bed on her left side
Makes her weep
Now, the soiled sheets need to be sent to the dhobhi


4.
Dear PM
Please begin your next speech
From the Red Fort
With a qawwali
To the accompaniment of a pakhawaj


5.
The season of cherry came
Petals, all fallen
No time to complete the woodblock
The paint refuses to dry


6.
The handwriting expert
In Chotti Bazaar
Worries what binary codes will do to his profession


7.
When Qays was prevented to marry Laila
He wrote distichs, and wandered the streets of the walled city
One day, someone called the naked Qays, a Majnu
That's how the first chapter of Laila-Majnu was born

It's the story of my life

1.
Like a Leviathan he sleeps
When I wake him up
His first question is: Where's Kumbhakarana?

2.
Something is wrong with the light in the sky
It has been flickering
Voltage fluctuation ...

3.
The wedding ring
Wound around his finger
Was a blade of couch grass
That she plucked for him

4.
Her first formal kiss
Lasting all of 7 minutes, 7 seconds
Was on top of a rock
Made of platinum

5.
Why do trees exist?
Whenever planet earth has a rash
They can give it a good rub


6.
Dear Mrs Ganges
You have five and a half wrinkles
Dark circles under your eyes

Do something re

7.
I look for Nagarjuna
I find Muktibodh
I read neither

It's the story of my life

Five ditties

Once I was a yellow coloured chair
Upon me sat an enormous sloth bear
I told him: please sit on the floor
Instead, he showed me the door
Told me to start behaving like a sofa
____________________________________________

The glacier it told the sun
I'm not having any fun
I've something important to say
Could you send cooler rays
Its becoming kind of warm
____________________________________________

Past, present and future decided to have a fight
About who is more relevant, and who is right
Past said, if not for me, you wouldn't be born
Present said, ultimately it's all about today morn
Future, his brow it started to furrow
He said: I'll give an answer day after tomorrow
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The lion hummed a tragic ballad
Of how his diet was restricted to a salad
My girlfriend wants me to be less mean
She has ordered me: "go green"
I still prefer shredded lamb to brinjal
___________________________________________

A line and a circle were having a conversation
While sipping a cup of tea at the railway station
The line said: a line should be quite fine
Why then try to read between the lines
The circle said: I really don't understand why
The zero was invented along with the Pi
Exchanging geometrics, they watched the rain
Holding hands, they boarded the local train

Shuklaji's Story

Shuklaji says

A taxi revolution is required

A proper hartal

To emancipate cab drivers, who are victims

Of all that one can be victims of

All this paraphrased without a shadow of doubt from the Hakim Panel Report

________________________________

Shuklaji and I share a taxi

From Vakola Bridge

He wants a lift to the Union office on Kennedy Bridge

No one can say no to him

Not I

Nor the juniors

I tell him so

Yes, at the first go

A rarity

He says, cab drivers are rude if they don't - and whores if they do

It's as simple as that, sahab

________________________________

Shuklaji points to the Latin origin of number-plates

The British created their empire

Without a script

That's why we're probably more protective of them

And their language

We love the minorities of history

________________________________

I meet Shuklaji after 18 months

A brain tumor

Diagnosed by Doctor Jaheel from Tata Hospital

Radiation for Rs 1,800/-

30 sessions in all

Mere liye Jaheel bhagwaan hain

Even though he is Musalmaan

What is that supposed to mean

Our social circumstances, are really two

Our cultures and our gods are utterly different

Our illnesses are the same, though

________________________________

Years ago

Shuklaji told me

I can do Vakola to Nariman Point in 25 minutes

Via Sea Link

He did

In his Ecco

At 7 am

While praying

His agarbatties make me sneeze

My nose is an atheist

He says, not possible

Everybody believes in god

A god is supposed to be for our own good

Why do you pray?

Habit he says

Plus I am a Pandit

He shows me his Janehu

Both hands off the steering wheel

________________________________

Shuklaji saw hell

He says, hell is a hospital

Yama Raja strolls through the corridors

Prescriptions equal to Yama mantra

________________________________

Today

Shuklaji is going to the Union office to sort out a default loan

Sab dalaali hain, sahab

They have pressed the mute button

I am going to un-mute it

________________________________

Once I was flying in from Lucknow

I informed Shuklaji

Pick me up from the airport

Ok saheb, he said

Flight landed

Baggage didn't

He circumambulated outside the airport, thrice

Was accosted by two traffic officers

Punched on the ears

These days in this city, you get boxed, that is it

The charge: Shuklaji is a Pandit from Jaunpur

That's it? I asked

It is about me breathing their air

A lot of angry people in this city

They want my air, too

I told them, it will be high tide

A fresh round of sea breeze will enter the city

I was punched on the nose again

They asked: who teaches you such things

Your ancestor's Vedas?

________________________________

That's when

Shuklaji's brain started to grapple with taboos

________________________________

We drive home

Through the city

I stare at Shuklaji's skull

You wouldn't believe how taxi drivers are treated

Every taxi driver living in his own mind

Shuklaji's mind, plays games

He de-codes number plates, non-stop

He quotes rules from the Central Motor Vehicles Act, 1989

This is the new Veda, sahab

________________________________

Near the flower market

We don't move

There's a traffic jam

For 30 minutes

Shuklaji sighs

It would appear that this city is unwell

Or in the ICU

Shuklaji says, I was not operated

Due to six badaams

Soaked in the evenings

Consumed with the badaam-skin

Before sun rise

Some daadiwallah hakim needs to prescribe six badaams for this city, too

________________________________

Shuklaji wants to return home

To Jaunpur

Especially after his examination by Dr Jaeleel and his colleagues

Quickest recovery, ever

A pat on the back

From the specialists

For that one morning

Shuklaji felt he was an equal

He forgot about the postcard

His son sent

96%

Yet, no admission in Benares Hindu University

________________________________

Shuklaji does not want his son to be a taxi driver

Naturally

For cab drivers there is one nation

It is discrimination

________________________________

Shuklaji says: Driving a taxi for 30 years caused my brain tumour

What will Shuklaji do now?

What will his brain ever do?

I know not

Elphinstone Road arrives

He exits

Swivels his six-foot frame over the iron frame

Walks to the railway platform

I won't see him again

Realisation on 13 October

Your tear
I fear

What the paper said to me

1.
The forecast for tomorrow is,
We propose to skip the summer season

2.
The story of her life

From a broken cup
She sips tea
When there is none


3.
A bit of breeze slipped through the window
Gate-crashing
Into her past


4.
In the folds of the world map
Weeds are sprouting
Argentina covered by a crease
Serbia has a hole
Congo is de-inked
A shirt hung over the Pacific Ocean
How will he wear a wet shirt?
To school in the morning?


5.
I seek idyll
Said the paper to me
Something profound penned by a ball point nib
In clear blue handwriting

Till such time
Four paper weights will suffice

Krishna's flute and other shorts

1.
Is a river, a river
When it has no water?

2.
The word I etched on a stone
Rebelled, and flew way
Like a hot air balloon

3.
This birthday, I will tattoo
A bar code on my forehead

4.
The story of their marriage
She couldn't find a suitable font
That said I love you

5.
The sun sets
On the banks of the Yamuna
Krishna knows not what to do
The gopis have hidden his flute

Unspoken rules and such other things

1.
His one genius discovery
Attar that smells like roasted tandoori chicken


2.
I propose a dedicated radio channel
That plays birdsongs


3.
They married
Due to an evening walk
Beneath poplar trees
Memorable as it were
Whose date neither remembered


4.
Except for a crying child
All is silent
In the 9:17 local


5.
He looked into the map
And saw himself
Lost


6.
Who invented unspoken rules? Can I meet him?

Chopin and I

Last evening, instead of bombinating,

I chit-chatted with my piano

Over a Sonata

I rendered with a strand of hair

Exceedingly delicious

Said a Liszty fly to me

Though your finale for the piano concerto is a bit extended

Write littler, edit morer

I got excoriated

When I was told to compose a Nocturne

For Chopin buried in a grave

Between Bellini and Cherubini

So

I stopped playing

For the first time in 378 years

And played the C minor no.21

Backwards