No Reservations



Once there was a forest, lush and green,

With streams and plenitude and a king and a queen;

Until the day, the rains failed and it was hit by a drought,

And the life started dying and no new would sprout.


The king came up with an idea witty,

A plan to form a government committee;

To dig wells all over the land,

Reach deep into the core and harvest water by hand.


A grand scheme that would solve a lot of difficulties,

Fix the water scarcity and bring in job opportunities;

For they needed an animal in every acre,

Engineers, priests, scouts and labour.


At first the government showed responsibility,

Hiring animals on their merit and capability;

But then some members took an opposing stand,

And insisted, that the weaker animals be represented in the big band.


“But what if they are not trained or suitable for the job,”

Asked the wise tortoise, almost with a sob.

“Hush you fool,” said the king’s minister,

“Don’t utter such words sinister.”

“The king goes for polls next year,

 And everyone’s support, he holds dear.”


So the deer and the hares and the birds got their reserved places,

But soon everyone joined in their separate races;

All the animals wanted a bite of the pie,

And to get those jobs, they were ready to rage and cry;

Even the leopards and the tigers started fighting,

Burning the forest, biting and inciting.


In the end, each post in every job was reserved,

And no able animal, got what they deserved;

All those employed, didn’t know anything anyhow,

But nobody said a word, nor raised an eyebrow;

No well was dug, and no water came,

While the committee played, the game of blame and shame.


The plants and the animals started dying of thirst,

To find shelter in neighbouring lands, the others dispersed;

At wits end, and to embarrassment overcome,

The king came up with a quick-fix dumb;

Where wells were to be dug, statues were installed,

Of the Rain God and the River Goddess and millions sprawled.


Still there was no water and no rain,

Just a land laid to waste, and anger and pain;

Slowly, the life started ebbing away,

And that which was left, could not stand or burrow or prey;

As grass turned to sand,

A pack of wolves from a foreign land;

Raided the kingdom a few weeks later,

Snuck in by a begrudging traitor;

Killing and devouring everything in their way.

And thus died the forest on the doomsday.


This Panchatantra tale may be preachy and judgemental,

But resemblance to events, current, past or future, is intentionally coincidental;

Hoping, in this mayhem and confusion,

Someday we may find hope and reason;

End the hate and kick the reservation,

And let equality be our home’s foundation.


Murphy’s Law


Murphy’s Law states, in no order of particular importance, that :

No matter what your seat is on the aircraft, the diagonal distance (in feet) from a crying baby is constant.

The queue you are in, is always the longest. Especially when the nature’s call is strongest. And it increases in length, with your every chessboard move in the contest.

Your smartphone takes eons to recharge from 99% to 100% but seconds to discharge from 100% to 99%.

The stainiest food and the drooliest drip from your brood, electromagnetically attracts the newest dress with certitude.

The smelliest derriere blasts, are quite often the quietest. The loudest ones, on the other hand have a predilection for closed lifts and discerning company.

Your teeth turn into spinach hooks just before the toothiest smile and a frontal camera profile.

Among all the elements of this world, the time period for which you can wear a pair of jeans unwashed, has the highest tensile strength.

The nosy neighbourhood aunty calling out your pet name scores highest on the decibel scale. This test is validated strongest in the midst of your office colleagues.

You may not be Robert De Niro, or a superhero, but you will always be a zero for your boss.

The reason for all your problems is your marital status, single or married.

Fuller the stomach and fuller the bladder, bumpier the road. And dirtier the petrol pump commode.

When you’ve been bit by the stomach flu and the oft visited place is your loo, the Municipal Board spitefully cuts off the water supply too.



Amidst the barrage of heart shaped balloons and rose wrapped love-sick loonies on this Valentine’s Day (VD), here are a few ironic, oxymoronic, uncannily apt VD acronyms which could weakly or strongly be statistically associated with the crazy VD which is today…

Very Difficult

Voltage Drop

Volume of Distribution

Virtual Directory

Value Date

Veak and Dizzy (an emergency room non-urgent complaint)


Vir Devotus (Latin: Devout Man, epigraphy)

Vivens Dedit (Latin: He Gave When Alive, epigraphy)

Vertical Descent

Venereal Disease

Vascular Dimentia

Voluntary Disclosure

Voluntary Departure

Weighty Wars


It is probably a lot that I ate,
Or an ere supressed genetic trait,
Maybe a decelerated metabolic rate,
That pushed my BMI into ‘overweight.’

But let me make this straight,
It wouldn’t really help or motivate,
If you greeted someone at the gate,
Not with a hi, hello or you-look-great,
But “God, have you put on some weight !”

Coz there is a fact, if I may be so bold, to state,
Everyday, I look into a mirror and fixate,
Twirl around and my proportions calculate,
Wondering if the reflections an illusion create,
Praying for a magic pill for my adipose uprise to abate.

So, I don’t really need my ‘wazan’ update,
Or anyone to look concerned and an intervention implicate,
That I’m upping the scales is no cause for a debate,
Let us talk about the weather, if after a pause we must wait,
Coz this tale of weighty wars is hard to narrate,
And no reason to frustrate and infuriate,
For this may be hard for you to relate,
That to shrink myself thin, is what I obsess about most, of late.