A Tribute to Radio

Especially early Radio City and Radio One's Bangalore channels. Man! Have they been consistent with their special characters or what!

It's been a while since I got my hands dirty,
Spun some verses or held some charcoal and be so arty...
It's the rush of the day that's got me in tangles,
But from happy times around, my spirit still dangles!

I turn on the Radio sometime during the day,
And on comes Chamrajpet Charles with so much to say.
What Child he says, sometimes calls me James,
Tells stories of the tipsy town, puts Suzy to shames!

Sometimes it's Ghanta Singh in his weird histrionics,
Calling real neighbours, adding humour to telephonics.
An old man, with pretty much all the time in hand,
Killing with questions, no one wants to understand.

Comes Professor Ulfat Sultan in his School of Speech,
And the noble thoughts of his to extend English's reach!
Stained with an accent and pained by his wife,
With words thus spoken, he plays his funny fife !

Auto Shankar is not so new to our little town,
But the messages he bring, wear a guiltless gown...
Kudos to the connect with his fans with gentle ease,
And applying the social messages, like a coat of grease...

Whom am I awaiting yet, still tuned in this half hour
None but the flamboyant and iconic Rajani Saar!
"Kannaa..." he says, I imagine a cigarette flipped,
Smile to the face, Ears to the radio, while he quipped.

Cotton Kamakshi and her gentleness highness,
Has an answer to all of her boyfriend's silliness,
A smirk and a laugh, and taunting bouncer,
Ask her a dumb question and get a dumber answer!

Remember Lingo Leela's sessions on the local slanguage?
Sister Stella with love to heal and her reused bandage!
Ungle Appukuttan with his mallu renditions of a Hindi song,
Or Babbar Sher's limerick-al treat for which crowds throng.

Haven't heard Hema Aunty yet, but bet there's promise,
Glad there's all this creativity, without fun amiss!
It's times like this, when I surrender my talents
To the greater Gods of humour and their worthy 2 cents

I'm glad there's a medium that can make me laugh
With my family and friends, or even on their behalf
Thanks to the radio boom in the last half decade
Good to tread a free channel walk with the humour parade!

Good one this... :)

http://infochangeindia.org/kids/poems_01.php - and more good ones here

I'm Sick Of Learning Lochinvar
Sampurna Chattarji

I’m sick of learning Lochinvar,
I’m sick of Robert Frost,
Kept stopping by those snowy woods –
Why didn’t he go get lost?

And daffodils and babbling brooks,
I don’t care if they’re pretty,
I’d rather read a wicked poem
About living in my city.

I don’t mind the Highwayman
With that hat upon his brow!
But all that happened long ago,
Doesn’t anyone write about now?

If someone ever asked me
(As if someone ever would!)
I’d tell them what I’d like
To make a poem good.

I’d like a poem about my dog,
Ringitt is his name
(And Ringitt is a currency –
Didn’t know that – what a shame!)

Or a poem about my sister’s friend
(The two of them are three)
Who comes over to our house
Only when she wants to pee.

Or perhaps a really serious one
About dragons and dragonflies
A poem with really serious facts
Instead of only lies.

No poems about pirates please,
I’d prefer one on sport.
Or a super genius child who
Invented a game of thought.

But who’s listening and where can I
Find such poems on the shelf?
Who cares, I know a better way –
I’ll write them all myself!

Untitled and Confused...

Hasn't been that long, has it ;) ? Writer's blocks could last longer !
So my new project ... this. Meant to create the emotional-shutters effect. "Open shutter"- "Close shutter" -"Open shutter"- "Close shutter" . Not sure if it works for all, but my attempt anyways.
I however simply titled this screen shot "Zebra" !

~ದ್ವಂದ್ವ~

ರೌದ್ರ ತಾಂಡವದ ಭೈರವನಲ್ಲೇ

ಶಾಂತ ಯೋಗಿಯ ತಾಪಸ ಗುಣ...

ಬಂಡೆಯನ್ನೇ ಕರಗಿಸಬಲ್ಲ ದೈತ್ಯ ಅಲೆಗೆ

ಕ್ಷಣಾರ್ಧದಲ್ಲೇ ಹಿಂಜರಿಕೆಯ ಹಿನ್ನೆಡೆಯ ಬಯಕೆ...

ಗುಡುಗು ಸಿಡಿಲುಗಳಿಂದ ಬೆದರಿಸಿ ಅಬ್ಬರಿಸುವ ಆಗಸ

ಕಣ್ಣೀರ ಮಳೆಗರೆದು ಕರಗದೆ?

ದ್ವಂದ್ವ ಎಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲೂ ಇದೆ...ಶಿವನೇನು ಅಲೆಯೇನು

ನಾನೇನು ನೀವೇನು ಹೊರತೆ?

Shrieks and Screams

With closed tight fists he hits;
I screech in pain, and he smiles...

He pulls me by my hair;
Tears run down my face, but I do not grimace!

I topple off as he kicks;
I scream in jolts and he hits me more..

The closet pulled down and torn apart;
The shuddering glass.. my neighbours enquire!

I tell them 'I am alright..'
'Its pranks of my little son, not a fight!'

Cloths of Heaven - WB Yeats

HAD I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Wings OR Roots

No explanations given for what inspired these lines ... take this one as a self-assessment :)

Should I be a colourful butterfly,
Or should I bear a bright flower?
Offer the sweet nectar to gratify,
Or cheerfully hover, near and over...

Should be an industrious honey bee,
Or provide a frame for his hive?
Work hard to see my queen in glee,
Or squeeze amber to help her thrive...

Should I be the free-flying sparrow,
Or house her homely cozy nest?
Am I good picking grains and a willow,
Or is my yeilding a branch the best...

Should I choose to find a hollow trunk,
Or be the trunk as a clueless care-taker?
Be jabbed at for a big wooden chunk,
Or harp on wood, tediously as a pecker...

Should I be like nomadic wanderers,
Or stay steady in my given space?
Explore new lands and new waters,
Or layer as rings, with years to trace...

Choices that often leave me betrayed-
Are a platter of meat or a basket of fruits
Thinking like a child, I'm always afraid -
Should I have wings or grow roots?

Ben Jonson (1572 – 1637) - To Celia

Drink to me, only, with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine;

Or leave a kiss but in the cup,

And I’ll not look for wine.

The thirst that from the soul doth rise

Doth ask for a drink divine;

But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,

I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,

Not so much honouring thee

As giving it a hope that there

It could not wither’d be;

But thou thereon didst only breathe,

And sent’st it back to me;

Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,

Not of itself, but Thee.

Doomed love

Doomed love
-------------

He felt it from the beginning, he had known it from the start,
This wouldn't go anywhere, but would only break his heart,
No matter how much he tried,how much his love was true,
This love was in a dead-end street,from the beginning he knew.

But hope springs eternal, oh what stupid notions !
The courtship started and went through all the motions,
But this would have no fairy tale ending, no happily lived forever,
He wondered why it started, sometimes wished it had never.

How can love flourish, in a world divided by classes,
By race and religion, the opiate of the masses,
How is it ever possible , for two different people to wed,
Rather than see you happy, the world would rather see you dead.

He'd no know more happiness,he'd know no more bliss,
Just memories of his love to treasure and taste of a parting kiss,
He blames himself in the end, the dark clouds always loomed,
Because he knew from the beginning, his love was always doomed.

-Prem

An 8 hour power-cut left me no choice but to write :-) . I've written about something that I've seen happen, unfortunately a little too often.

Incognito...

This poem has been left unnamed in my inability to find a suitable title :).

While most feelings have a name,
There're those that claimed fame,
With no defined ways to express
Leaving you lost and confused... and in a bit of a mess :?

Are you ecstatic, euphoric or blissful,
Blessed, delighted, happy or joyful?
Or intoxicated or exalted or gone !!
When you wear a smile you've never known or worn ?

Felicity, mirth, gladness, glee..
Is that what this emotion could be?
To use the right word might well be an art,
But what do you say when there's a song in your heart ?

A bit buoyant yet downtrodden,
On cloud nine but crestfallen,
Greatly gratified yet melancholic,
Often felt as a duo, making the right word a difficult pick !!

But these feelings are best left abstract than articulate,
As they transpire in the moments of the years you'd await ...
They are a gift of God to the evolving and thoughtful kind,
A way to bridge the differences, from one's own to another mind !

Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice"

Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Auto man !!

I wrote for a lot of people.... How can I not write for them? These guys take me to around, make me think along the way ... about this thing I have to say

Call this an Ode or call this a satire,
To the three-wheeling community,
Who stir the traffic-al quagmire...
Every new day in Bangalore city.

The first mile costs a mere Ten buck,
But it takes grit to ensure a recount.
For every client is high-muck-a-muck
To be on the deadly auto-man's mount...

Once paid for, they promise you a ride,
A journey through roads less travelled.
But the destination is for him to decide,
However much you may seem hassled...

Sometimes they rate you, by the face,
Seeking their preys, in the morning rush,
You'll be nailed, if, of the High Tech race...
Your pockets barren.. his meadows plush !

It's better to be with him, than around,
It's better to take the rock with the roll...
He'll be behind with nasty horn to sound
If not on the side, edging out of control !

Blaring new songs, boastful of movie stars,
At least a thousand of them can be found,
With jarring noise, and a silencer farce...
How is it hard to break the barrier to sound?

A mouthful of swear-words are his stakes,
All day long in the gambling with his wrists,
Clutching the gear and holding his brakes,
On crazy maneuvers along bends and twists .

And yet he's here, seeking opportunities,
And yet his is an endearing tale to tell,
Of a small town man, bewildered by the cities,
Who's brought along his dreams to sell !

He is a cheat only as much as me,
His is a story only as much as mine ...
He maybe lost in the future we foresee ...
With his departure as a metropolis' sign !

ಬಳಸಿ - ಉಳಿಸಿ - ಬೆಳೆಸಿ

ಕನ್ನಡ ಬಳಸಿ-ಉಳಿಸಿ
ಅಂತ ಅದೆಷ್ಟು ಚಳುವಳಿ!
ಹಾಗೆ ಸದ್ದು ಮಾಡದೆ ಬಳಸಿ-ಉಳಿಸಿದಷ್ಟೇ
ನಾವು ಬೆಳೆಸಿದ್ದೆಷ್ಟು ನೀವೇ ನೋಡಿ -

School ಇಸ್ಕೂಲ್ಲಾಗಿ,
Master ಮಾಸ್ತರರಾಗಿ,
Fees ಫೀಜಾಗಿ, ತದ್ಭವವಾದ್ದು
ಹಳೆಯ ವಿಷಯ ಬಿಡಿ...

ಆದರೆ ಪೋರಾಪೊಟಾಣಿ,
ಅರ್ಗೆಂಟು - aka ಗೆಂಟು,
ಸೆಪ್-ಸೆಪರೇಟು
ಇವೆಲ್ಲಾ ಏನು ಗೊತ್ತೇನ್ರಿ?

ಇವೆಲ್ಲಾ ಕಬ್ಬಿಣದ ಕಡ್ಲೆ ಇಂಗ್ಲಿಷಿನ
Power-of-attorney, arrogant, separate,
ಇವನ್ನೇ ಬಗ್ಗಿ, ಬಾಗಿಸಿ, ನಾದಿಸಿದಾಗ
ಅರಳಿದ ಕನ್ನಡ ಕುಸುಮ ಕಣ್ರೀ!

ಇನ್ನು ನಮ್ಮ head(ಹೆಡ್ಡು ?) ಮಾಸ್ತರರ ಬಾಯಿಗೆ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿ
machine~mission , apparatus~operators
asterisk~ostrich ಆಗಿದ್ದೆಲ್ಲಾ
ರೂಪಾಂತರವಲ್ಲ ಅವಾಂತರವಷ್ಟೇ ಬಿಡಿ!

Least ಮಾಡ್ತಾ ಹೋದ್ರೆ
ತುಂಬಾ ಇದೆ ಬಿಡಿ
Tame ಇಲ್ಲ ನೋಡಿ; ಇದ್ದಿದ್ರೆ
ಹರಟ ಬಹುದು ಇದೇನು ಮಹಾ ಬಿಡಿ!

The Leela of Sheela ...

This one was written in a bus, on our way back from a team trip, for a colleague of mine (and his imaginary girl friend Sheela)... a little more than 2 years back !! Hope he's found his Sheela now :) !

Make do ...until creativity resurges :)

To the man that I found in you,
I'll tell you a story of Love, Untrue,
It started on the day you were looking at me,
Your piercing eyes just set my spirits free,
And when you walked with your manly stance in my direction,
My heart skipped a beat, in deep fascination,
You pulled out a red rose in that magical moment.
To think of you on your knees, sent my blood into a torrent,
My heart beat grew faster as you came close,
And all of a sudden, Life had a million questions to pose,
When I was in this ecstasy of my dream finally come true,
You walked past me and said, "Sheela, I Love you!"

Little Johnny in Phillie

I wrote this for a friend who went to Philadelphia
Censor Rating - 'A' ... :-)

Little Johnny is in Phillie
Jerking off with his willie
And all he wants to do is get laid
With the colleague,neighbor or the maid

He went to the US giving a bunch of reasons
But actually he wanted to mate in all seasons
And if he doesn't get his way,
I'm afraid he might just turn gay.

That might be a catastrophe for his family and all,
Although he might be just having a ball,
And so I wish him, as I lift up my glass of booze,
And hope somehow his virginity he will loose.

Rangaswamy and the Tiger

Rangaswamy and the Tiger... HILARIOUS...

Deep in jungle I am went
On shooting Tiger I am bent
Bugger Tiger has eaten wife
No doubt I avenge poor darling's life
Too much quiet, snakes and leeches
But am not feared these sons of beeches
Hearing loud noise I am jump with start
But noise is coming from damn fool heart
Taking care not to be fright
I am clutching rifle with eye to sight
Should Tiger come I will fall him down
Then like hero return to native town
Then through trees I am espying one cave
I am telling self - "Rangaswamy be brave"
I now proceed with too much care
From nonsense smell this Tiger's lair
My leg is shake, I start to pray
I think I shoot Tiger some other day
Turning round I am going to go
But Tiger giving bloody roar
He bounding from cave like shooting star
I commend my soul to Kali Ma
Through the jungle I am went
Like bullet with Tiger hot on scent
Mighty Tiger rave and rant
Rangaswamy shit in pant!
Must to therefore leave the jungle
Killing Tiger one big bungle!!
I am telling that never in life
I will risk again for damn fool wife

My mother's hands

I wrote this for my mother for mother's day.....

They held me when I was born
Caressed me when I slept
When I cried from night to morn
They wiped my tears as I wept

They played with me as a child,
Holding my fingers,showed me to write
Fought off everything mean and wild
And cradled me through the night

They washed,bathed and clothed me,
And many thousand different things,
And whenever her I used to see,
I wondered why this angel had no wings

They carried me everywhere I went,
Through roads,parks and beach sands,
If you're wondering what 'they' meant,
They're nothing but my mother's beautiful hands

Old and weak they maybe now,
But one think i'm sure most of all
If I ever lose my way or miss my step,
They'll be waiting to catch me as I fall.

A rain drop... and Life

Fishing in an Ocean

It's hard to explain why I wrote this one ... If you ask.. you'll get a *shrug*, a *smile* and a *wink*. Some of my friends may know what I mean...some of my work colleagues may also understand something out of this... but maybe none completely. See... I never literally swam in the ocean :)

Really, whoever says the Ocean is a safe place to be,
Must either be wanderer or a prisoner set free!

Deep at the abyss, are the colours and corals
But beneath the pressure, we justify the laurels...

At the surface, float the green algae and weeds
But do we stay afloat, for their parasitic needs?

The little fish stick together, family calling
Stubbornly en route, with inflexibility appalling !

The big fish are out to kill, with a tooth or tail
Quick to bite, quick to win the death of the frail.

A whale does survive, by his mere might and size,
Yet men hunt to spear through a Moby who tries.

The oysters and clams hide themselves bashfully,
Claiming of a pearly glow, that we seek so hopefully.

The Octopus and Squid swish their limbs around,
Slimy and dark, suckers on a prey that they found!

The sting ray or a jelly fish with an umbrella wide,
If sought shelter under, poisons pinch your inside!

Insignificant in comparison, to it's vastness I bond
I started out here finding my Nemo, my darling, my pride,
And whoever says there are other fish in the pond,
May take a cruise in this darkness or go take a ride!

Nominated poem....

This poem was nominated poem of 2005 for the best poem, written by an
African kid.........amazing thought!!!



When I born, I Black, When I grow up, I Black,
When I go in Sun, I Black, When I scared, I Black,
When I sick, I Black, And when I die, I still black..
And you White fella,
When you born, you Pink, When you grow up, you White,
When you go in Sun, you Red, When you cold, you Blue,
When you scared, you Yellow, When you sick, you Green,
And when you die, you Gray..
And you calling me Colored ?