Colombo

  Come, heavenly bombs! Destroy Colombo! Come, America, if you’re more than mumbo- jumbo, grab your spear and longbow and erase this city!   Come, America and your English sidekick, come splat kapow, ’cause History’s cyclic, the world is morally hierarchic and tyrants are shitty.   So, England, slay this swastikaed tyrant who burns and violates without warrant, who mutilates

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A matter of time and space

Vincent’s paintings Were rejected by his friends As jackpiece! Until the sunset dawned On him,  All those junks were then Seen again, as masterpiece.  Meera’s dances on the streets Were looked down upon as insanity She kept on chanting her lines,  Dancing in the open,  Until her steps, her trance Made sense, was worshipped then As an outstanding disciple Of

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Life is as sweet as the cake

Baba*, I told you I don’t want to grow up But you did nothing! Adult, mature people Messing with the world, The most beautiful cake, Sadly baked with Comparison, competition, Putting existence at stake. I was happy with Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Feluda*, Charlie and the Chocolate factory; Read countless times… But now it is a bother To be

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The Nature of Advice

  If a five-pound sack of King Edward potatoes falls on your head from an upper-storey window, there’s no point seeking advice from someone whose left foot was reversed over by the back wheel of a taxi or someone who tripped over a gherkin box and fell through the opened roof of a wine cellar. They don’t understand potatoes.  

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