Tuesday, February 8, 2011

My Wish....Prithvish

A simple poem for a brother who, however old he grows, will always be a newborn for me.

When mother’s tummy started bloating at the rate of an air balloon

That’s when I asked my Grandfather for a trishool.

Odd one might say with the religious ignorance I show these days

But young and innocent I was (sort of)

Wished for another bloke, another goon.

I started a penance

I made a demand

I don’t want to fight with someone with pink ribbons on her head

No, blue will be the colour instead

Of our room

A brother I asked for, a desperate plea

Not a she, not a she, I want a HE!!

So came the 14th of October

And out popped a brother

The most precious gift ever

He had my face, and he seemed pretty clever.

God oh God how soft he was

Like a dew drop on an early morning rose

Like a pillow you fear just might

Tear open if you held on it too tight.

I used to go near him

Lovingly torment him

Until one day he got his revenge

And without warning bit

It is a moment is cherish

Of him losing his wit.

I wanted him to talk

When was he going to walk?

He grew up well and I for that I give my testimony

But then he changed his mind, thought it would be nice to throw toys from the balcony.

And later poop in the same place

Only for his brother to make a face

And clean up all the messy trace.

I would never ever have let him become someone else

You might call is selfish, I call it selflessness

There are some rules…and younger brothers should always play by them

To complicate matters less.

“You will play the game I teach you to”

“You will support the team I do”

“You will make Maggi and popcorn if I ask you”

Some things you cannot put behind you

Times when we played WWE-WWE and broke the bed

When we tried peeing on each other on a Sunday bath

When I smashed a watermelon on his head

When I stuck a chewing gum in his hair which led to him losing them

And the innumerable times when we disrupted the peace and harmony

Because that is what two crazy brothers are supposed to be known for in the society.

After a lot of tears, bruises and cuts I can still vision the happiness

After the last push on his cycle, seeing him whizz away towards independence

To forcing his finger off the swimming pool railing and throw him into the water

To push him off my floating body and see him falter

Watch with bated breath fearing he would drown

But still not dive in, let him go down

And then the elation to see the waters part

Today he can save someone, because I didn’t save him.

From the Rosarite who wore a Lal Chaddi

To the boy who always copied my hairstyle

And now the smart young man in the flaming green Vidyani blazer.

It has been a transition worth watching, worth never forgetting

Moments I was always recording, without him knowing.

Today when he scores a goal, its as if I kicked the ball

When he wears his council badge, its as if I’m pinning it on myself

When he can’t solve math, its as if I miscalculated

And when he finishes a book, its as if I read it again.

As he turns 16, I am proud

Proud he can sleep alone in a big house

Proud to see him keep his cool

Which I never could.

Proud he can ride a vehicle

Proud to see him excelling in accounts

Proud to see him look handsome

After all, its my face ;)

There are a thousand things to say

But this is a poem, not an essay.

All I can say is he today

And as he makes a foray

Has his own identity

With his unnerving quality

Garnished with some of my traits

Sprinkled with my language

But still standing out as himself.

I shall then hold my head high

In adding some touches to a final master-piece

When I will be known as ‘Your Brother’

And through that I will earn my right to call him my wish

My dear brother Prithvish.


जनम हुआ हमारा पेड़ों के शहर बरोडा में

आज वहाँ पेड़ कम, इमाराते ज़्यादा है.

इस वजह से आज हम बैठे हैं Sheffield की सबसे उँची पहाड़ी पे

हमारे साथ एक डायरी और पार्कर की कलम है.

लोग कहते है की हमें सिर्फ़ Engligh फाड़ने आती है

इस वजह से आज हम प्रयत्न कर रहे हैं मातृभाषा में कुछ लफ्ज़ लिखने

ताकि जब दो साल बाद देश लोटेंगे, आक्सेंट में बात करेंगे

और लोग हमें शाना बोलेंगे, तो उन्हे कुछ तो सुना पाएँगे!

काफ़ी गुस्सा आया आज सुबह

जब Nescafe के डब्बे पे पढ़ा "Makes over 100 cups".

पंद्रह दिन में ख़तम, कमिने टोपी पहनाने में नंबर वन है!

इस वजह से हम कॉफ़ी से रूठ कर, पिए बिना ही चढ़ गये

फिर साला याद आया, हम कप में नही, Full-size Mug में पीते है!

अब तक तो पता चल ही गया होगा की हम हिन्दी में काफ़ी Amateur हैं,

दुआ करता हूँ अगली बार मेरी पेशकश इससे ज़्यादा सुहानी रहे.

इस वजह से हम आगे बस और चार लाइन लिखेंगे

उमीद है की वो चार लाइन आपके दिल को छू दे.

लोग सोचते हैं की हम क्यों इतनी उँचाई पे बैठके लिखते है

ऐसा भी कहते होंगे की साला समझता खुदको प्रेमचंद है.

इस वजह से नही लिखता की हमें तुम्हारी तालियों की गूँज सुननी है,

लिखना तो सिर्फ़ एक बहाना है, इतनी उँचाई पे हम तो बस 'मेघ' को महसूस करने आते हैं!


Harbouring feelings is not an easy task

You cannot hide them behind a mask

Depression, remorse, nostalgia and pain

Can all make you stand in front of a rushing train.

When the skies do not open for years

The water accumulates as a farmer’s tears

‘No harvest oh God!’ He cries…'please let loose the rain!'

Not a drop….that is pain.

The yearn for a child

Soon after the bond of marriage

The fall from the steps

The blood-stain

‘Sorry ma’m, it is a miscarriage’

9 months of ecstasy turns to pain.

The Russian summer of 1991

At the bottle of vodka everyone gets a turn

One day it snows out of season

The fall of communism

No more money, cash or shares

Alas, no more grain

‘Sorry son, no bread today’

Thought the father….that is pain!

The killer brown hair

Made them stare

The curvaceous waist

Took the form of haste

How could they refrain?

‘Rape, rape!’ she cried……that is pain.

Wife in waiting

She prepared his favourite dish,

Lemon rice and honey-glazed fish.

They saw it go over the Atlantic....

Carried 300 people

In man’s greatest invention

‘I love you’ was his last mention

Twins of New York killed…devastation

The food went cold

Life mercilessly slain

Terrorism….that is pain!

Billie Jean, Smooth Criminal, Thriller and Earth

Your laughter and your innocent mirth

The gloved hand and silver jacket

All now adorned in a golden casket.

No familiar ‘God Bless You’

No moonwalk

Gone is the voice with the beautiful strain

Rest in Peace MJ….now that is pain!

When I saw the lion in all its glory

I didn’t want this story

To stop

But someone reached earlier


Blood, bones and paws but no grizzly mane

The King is poached….jungle silent

That….that is pain!

From the tears of a farmer

To the cry of a mother

The fall of communism

The end of the King of Pop but not his rhythm,

Poaching and terrorism

To virginity shattered in a single scream across the quiet lane.

Forgive me for documenting all this in words

I hope you will not let your feelings for me wane

Because that….that would also be Pain.

The Alpha-male

We have to understand

That as the most advanced race

We were bound to differ

And thus the contrast between male and female face.

The Alpha-male,

A bag full of self-esteem

According to him, his thoughts never stale

Alone in his world he wants to gleam.

The suppressed female,

Giving in to demands of the Alpha

Leaves behind a luscious trail

Whether naked or from behind a burqa.

The problem arises in its ultimate stage

When one or the other traits mix

And in a fit of rage

You explode into life’s perennial fix!

I will not deter from what I here say

That the succulent female body

Cannot house the Adam’s ego

Just like the whites could never accommodate the negro.

Similarly today’s dominant male

Or yesterday’s commanding chains

Confused as to who holds the reins

Knowing that a single female trait he cannot contain.

Unless the fairer sex will not give in

The relentless male will continue to dig in

Eat away the selfless female soul

Continue to make mountains out of the mole.

I say rise o rise, you beautiful maid

Fight the tyranny, don’t let him raid

Bring the alpha down to Beta grade

Don’t think the male can never fade.

But don’t try to house it o lovely

The male ego can be deadly

Avoid its sting

Its endless whim

I know the doom it can bring….

Because I, I am HIM!!

Fire and Ice

To Veeral on his 20th:

When I first saw him,

Slim, trim, glasses with a plastic rim.

Eleven we were,

In that camp during summer.

When we parted, it was brief

We would rejoin in school mischief.

When I then saw him,

Not much of a change,

Silence, less talk

Not overly confident, but not a dork.

This was just the beginning

Of a companionship so thrilling.

Excuse me, but I’m going to talk about myself

In glowing lines which brings out my best.

Short compared to the tall,

Talkative compared to the listener,

Impatient compared to the patient.

Interested to the not-so.

They say two must compliment each other

To tether

For a lifetime these memories will suffice,

I hope you liked the first few lines of Fire and Ice.

I write, he reads

I speak, he heeds

I fight, he only might

I always told him to stand up, speak up

But he never really reacted much!

Then so be it I said,

Dropped the idea, that everyone is made

Like me, for me

There are some who are there just so

As I come to this world and go

To be.

I always wondered, why do we never fight?

When was it last?

I’m sure it was quite in the past

How many times?

Once, no maybe twice

How could we? I was fire, and he ice.

I hope he learnt how to crackle like the fire,

Cause I tried to gather like ice.

I hope he learnt how to be noticed from distance

Cause I try to keep myself from resistance

I hope he learnt how to face the world

Cause I try to stay calm, not to let the anger unfurl

I hope he learnt to manage

Because I try to envisage

I hope he received some of my linguistics

I must admit, I never got his mathematics.

I hope the world he does entice

I hope we always remain like Fire and Ice.

There are times when I think

What if it would end…this link.

I know we’ll try our best

To beat time’s test.

I know we will

After eighty more years still

Be friends until all our wishes we fulfill

And the dawn no more we wish to see and this world we want to flee

All our virtues intact, and forgotten vice,

And we shall depart as Fire and Ice.