I can make a list of animals that can’t fly.
and me.

Do you know what we can do?
Rats can scurry through holes not big enough for fingers to sneak through.
A caterpillar waltzes its way in and out of a cocoon, opening the door for a butterfly.
Elephants, those giants wouldn’t fly if they had a thousand wings,
but man, there’s something about the sight of the giant beast,
a calm even while it strolls near the river.
Snakes can deliver enough venom in one bite
to make the blue of the sky seem pale.

And I?
I can write you a poem,
and wait till it takes effect
and you fall in love with it.

100 Days of Happy Poems, Poem 10


On a bike



I find freedom on a bike.

While climbing up the hill,
or screaming down it,
chained to gravity, I feel liberated
like a raindrop being pulled down to earth,
yet swaying to its own drumbeat.

On a bike,
I am a blank whiteboard
being scribbled
with blue and red and orange and green.

On a bike,
I ride through kaleidoscopic roads,
Roads that with every turn
reveal faces and terrain
rich with life, pregnant with enthusiasm.
that snake around houses
where people live with suntanned smiles,
near saw-toothed shorelines
where fishermen,
their backs curved like horseshoes,
untangle their catch.
Roads on which schoolchildren stop to wave,
sometimes even barrage me with questions,
and not care about my answers.

On a bike,
I can hear the wind whistle through my hair
as if it’s trying to shave my head.

On a bike,
I see a village’s heart twist open around a bend.
I see cities open up their petals in streets,
cities purging their clogged roads of vehicles,
flinging them onto the highway.
All this while a thin cooling stream of sweat trickles down my back.

On a bike,
I am still, I am alive.

Today’s prompt: Write a poem including the phrases ‘The whiteboard was blank’ and ‘shaving my head’.
100 Days of Happy Poems, Poem 9


will wait
for you
till the turn of the season
when rivers
have just begun to get full,
their thirst quelled
by generous rains
that will soon move on further north.

if like the river,
you too want to be nourished,
your thirst quelled
with a thousand touches
all coming together at once.

I will time my jump off the cloud
to the moment
when your space on earth
is right under the crosshairs.

You have to be patient,
and not move too much.
Do not get distracted
by the laughter of the caterpillar,
or the scream of earthworms
as they rush out of their burrows.
Whatever happens, do not move.
Else I won’t catch you,
even with my eagle eye.

Once I have landed,
I will wait.
Like raindrops wait
to fall off the eaves of mud houses into the ground,
so I will wait to seep into you,
and consume you.

But I will wait only till time permits me,
until the wind and the cloud
succumb to the red hot fury of the sun,
and choose to escape,
until the frogs disappear
to wherever they do
to hibernate
or perhaps to preserve
the touch of water on their skin.

Then I will wait no longer,
for like the rain,
I will have places to go too.

Back to the 100 Days of Happy Poems challenge. Poem 7.

Struggling to write a happy poem

So I wanted to write a happy poem.
I’d make it all cheerful and smiley.
But there was a catch,
what would I write about?

I thought of the things that make me happy.

Relishing a mango, its luscious yellow flesh squishing between my fingers?
Nah, that would be too shallow.

How about reading Murakami?
Perhaps this would work.
I picked up The Elephant Vanishes,
and with every page turned, my happiness vanished too,
morphing first into intrigue,
then bewilderment.

Maybe, I was approaching this all wrong.
A happy poem would have to talk about some profound joy.
Yea, I understand now.
Profound joy.
Oh so difficult to grasp.

Just like writing a happy poem.

100 Days of Happy Poems, Poem 6

How to be a smartphone

1. Connect to hundreds (or thousands, if you can) of other smartphones through Facebook, WhatsApp, Twitter, Instagram. For the definition of a smartphone, read the rest of this list.

2. See a fraction (say 10%, not more) of population in point 1 in real life.

3. Love yourself. Befriend the selfie, and if possible the velfie. Aspire to be the new-age Narcissus. You may not be alone in this quest, but you will survive the cut-throat competition. Whatever happens, strive to be the best.

4. Brighten the Narcissus halo by broadcasting daily snippets from the life of your companion (a.k.a. smartphone owner). From the time said companion wakes up till he crashes to bed. If you wish to be a smarter smartphone, automate to broadcast events during sleep.

5. Load yourself with apps that improve productivity, which in turn will give you more time to spend on said apps.

6. Buzz / beep every minute to remind your companion of your existence.

7. Capture companion’s data w/o his knowledge so it can be reused to create his digital clone. Flesh and bones can be loaded later.

8. Guide companion when he’s lost. I mean geographically. For help with any other kind of lost, point him to Google.

9. Become companion’s soulmate. To do this, follow steps 2-8.

100 Days of Happy Poems, Poem 4

Why I pick books at a bookstore

1. Because the blurb on the back cover made it irresistible.
2. Because I flipped to a random page and liked what I read.
3. Because the cover was dreamy, trippy or plain intriguing.
4. Because the font size was okay; I would not need a magnifying glass.
5. Because it virtually leapt off the bookshelf, ‘Read me, read me.’
6. Because I’d spent 30 minutes through the first 5 chapters and could not put the book down.
Amazon / Flipkart, you’d never get me to do any of this.
100 Days of Happy Poems, Poem 3