corgi

What kind of a do(r)ggie
Is a corgi?

gngngngn

i neva gnu
what they call a gnu-born gnu

Bulgogi

I don't think I can ever eat bulgogi
'Cos it makes me think it's made from a bull froggy
Or worse still, from a bull doggie

If U were A

Behold the Great Indian Bustard,
who wants his story to be heard:
So miserable he felt
That because his name could be unfittingly misspelt,

Proud peacock became India's national bird

NB: this is apparently true! Please see http://www.archive.org/stream/NLBW1#page/n24/mode/1up

if wishes were beamers

My spoilt, lazy pet lemur

Scratches his tibia, scratches his femur,

Yawns and rolls about

Glares at me and rubs his snout

And yells "Take me for a ride in your beamer"

Say I, "You impatient li'l lemur,

Stop being such a screamer

Its time for my tea

I'll let you have my BMW key

If you be a dear and pass me the creamer"

not a lullabee

The wallaby
Is a kangaroo wannabe

no mere cat

Meerkat, meerkat
What do you peer at?

its closer to the rhino than you think

What a name, “Tapir”

It can rhyme with pear

या फिर

it can rhyme with Amir

scaly

I met a pangolin in a zoo in New Jersey
He complained how humans were cruel and had no mercy
Pangolin’s pretty scales
From snout to tail
Are used to make clothes and many a purse-y

murine cervines and cervine murines

Well, there are mouse deer, and there are deer mice

But there ain’t no douse meer, there ain’t no mere dice
Deer mice are mice with deer-like fur, while mouse deer aren’t true deer at all
Which is mousier and  which is deerier? I can't say. That’s your call

slow loris

I once met a  tiny slow loris
His name, interestingly, was Morris
He'd grip with all his might, and he had a poisonous bite
Sadly, his kind are dwindling in the forris(t)

ungulate and cucurbit

Anteloup

Don't eat cantaloup

change, change

the only thing constant is change

letting go

It was a sure feeling of losing something. Letting go of something that was a part of me for six years - something I was a part of too... IARI. The rain was adding to the nostalgia that was building up. It was raining on the day of my M Sc counselling.. and its raining now, six years later as I circulate the notice for my final Ph D viva voce.

I can feel that rush I felt when I first set foot here. I remember being totally mesmerized by the thick trunks of the stately Arjan trees and ancient looking wild Jamun trees... the chaotic vegetation that was so unlike the previous campuses I had studied in. There were grey hornbills on some branches, and plenty of peacocks. The jamun fruit lay scattered, squashed making purple blotches on the sidewalks. The air was thick with moist odours of squashed fruit, wet wood and earth.

Today, as I walked back from Lal Bahadur Shastri Building, towards the gate, I stopped to look at the amethyst globes of jamun, splattered around. Some had collected in a puddle, fermenting - as if in a mini mud-vat of jamun wine making! A little microcosm - the puddle was teeming with little water bugs, fruit flies were suspended mid air in their lazy, non-buzzing flight wondering whether to oviposit or not... so much activity in a few square centimeters! The drizzle strengthened into rain and I stood in it, soaking in the last rain I would catch at IARI!

Many students on their bikes whizz past. I don't know them, and they hardly know me.. I am a 'super-senior'. Some Malayali juniors trundle past on their Ladybird bicycles.. one of them recognizes me and waves out to me with an effusive smile. The 'brown dog association' as I called it.. a bunch of brown dogs, all part of the same litter is all grown up now. Pummy hated it when I called out to them and talked to them as they looked at me quizzically. Now they are heading towards the porch of the library - they hate getting their paws wet.

I reach the turning where, on many of our 'after-dinner strolls', we (Pummy, Chhawi, Vinni, Kalyani and I) would abruptly veer away at the familiar sight of a bunch of approaching lumpenous seniors - who had changed their dinner timings just so that they could bump into the chicks who were out for their walk! Many of those lumpens are scientists now! Married, with kids and all!!

Okay, now. The gate is here. Out I go. And I'll be back pretty soon, so I should save some words for the final farewell ;)

Gosh, I never knew time could fly this fast... I slowly approach the end of my extended childhood.. a prolonged state of studenthood, that was my Ph D.

angels and demons

i wonder why i should make my lines rhyme

when everything happens without rhyme or reason..

i look back in wonder at the years and times

the fulfilled dreams, the treasured seasons...

those unfulfilled.. i think less about

the past wounds, some dried scars, some still lesions -

somehow matter no more, may gnaw at me, no doubt

but i've learnt to treasure the angels and ignore the demons

100th post

in my hundredth post
i talk not of what i like the most
i shall not rant or rave or boast
nor will it be like a toast

in my hundredth post
i talk not of spirits or witches or ghosts
or mountain scapes or sandy coasts
or treacherous guests or lecherous hosts

on the phone

The 'Flying Dutchman' was playing in the background as she mumbled into the phone .The conversation goes like this:
She: So.. had your dinner?
He: yaa. burrrp. gosh I'm so full
She: good
He: heyy whats that noise?
She: Music. Wagner
He:What??
She: nothing. aise hi
she mutes the sound
He: hmm.
Silence
She: Hey...
He: listen listen.. I'll call you back.. kya match hai..ooh WHAT a catch
click. whirrrrrrrrr

I wake up filled with guilt

And squirm and toss about under my quilt

old n mouldy

crumbly, infested with mould

is this story.. long untold

Udita tells me a story..

"If its doubtful, its dirty!"

Said his Mum, of his shirty

When he yelled to ask IF it was clean

She said "If you're not sure its washed or has not been

Its not clean, surely"

So this story makes you think clearly

That when in doubt

Rule it out