If I knew...

If I knew the box where the smiles were kept,

No matter how large the key

Or strong the bolt, I would try so hard,

'Twould open, I know, for me;

Then over the land and sea broadcast

I'd scatter the smiles to play,

That the children's faces might hold them fast

For many and many a day.


If I knew a box that was large enough

To hold all the frowns I meet,

I would gather them, every one,

From nursery, school, and street;

Then, folding and holding, I'd pack them in

And turn the monster key,

And hire a giant to drop the box

To the depths of the deep, deep sea.

Down at the End of Your Road...

I am your neighbor. I seem most respectable,
But underneath I'm an iniquitous toad.
So many dreadful mishaps have befallen you
down at the end of your road.
And I live down the end of your road.

I'm working on ways to remove you from paradise,
from your striped lawn and your new swimming pool.
I place broken bottles in your geraniums
sabotage your gardening tools.
And I live down the end of your road.

By day I am a real estate gentleman.
I deal in fine properties cheap at the price.
After dark, I plan my most devious practices
which you might think are not very nice.

Designing a system to reverse your plumbing
welling up, as you sit on your private throne.
Will come up all kinds of vile and despicable nasties
you would rather not have in your home.
And I live down the end of your road.

Dispensed loathsome creatures in your drawing room,
Sent doggy poo-poos in your morning mail.
Rat's heads and lark's wings should set your tums turning
and your houses will soon be for sale.
And I live down the end of your road.
Yes, I live down the end of your road.
Well, I live down the end of your road.
I live down the end of your road.

Raining in my Heart...

The sun is up, the sky is blue
There's not a cloud to spoil the view
But its raining
Raining in my heart

The weatherman says fine today
He doesnt know that you’ve gone away
And its raining
Raining, raining in my heart

Oh, oh mystery, misery
Whats gonna become of me

I tell myself, the blues wont show
But pretty soon all these tears will flow
Raining, raining in my heart
Oh, oh misery, oh misery
Oh, whats gonna become of me

The sun is out, the sky is blue
There's not a cloud around to spoil the view
But its raining, raining in my heart

Beer Chronicles...

Beer and the Winter's Sun.


why does one need ter drink anyways...is a question asked by many who don't drink...

but how does one make them understand what a person feels when one's high...

yeah well i thought the best way ter describe it would be ter get high and then ter write about it...

hmmm...yes I'm high as i pen this down..correction type this down...

that said and u have your eyebrows raised as you read it further...

or you say ter yourself " there he goes..."
I'll leave the blank to each one of yours definition...

but what i really wanna talk about here is the feeling of peace and tranquility that comes with sipping a chilled beer( child bear;) as per a Punjabi daru theka) under the sun on a sunny day of a cold winter's day...a kingfisher strong in my case

ahhhh...phew...hmmm... an expression on the face - as the first gulp of that sweet brown nectar goes down one's throat...
and with it arrives a feeling that pacifies all the worries and inhibitions that the world has ter offer...

you open up and a complex algorithm uncontrolled by you involving your voice box, tongue, mouth infact your whole body gets ter work...
the words ooze out carrying everything that was hidden and carrying with them the stress and...
the hands wave, the body is set on motion as if clearing the way for the words that are to travel the distance...
and one's on the way to join the highway...

the spirit of beer flows through you, intoxicating and the sun makes the surrounding a lazy timeless portrait...

the time passes by as if in slow motion...the stomach lurches and BURRRPPP...

now with that gaseous release things settle down and you cant resist going fer another pint...

head becomes a bit heavy and is cushioned by some unknown forces and the body feels light as if floating...

there's nothing that can stop you..and you feel no fear...

add ter that soft rhythmic sounds of Pink Floyd...and one's surfing on the chilly breeze that Chandigarh has ter offer...

getting up from that chair is a herculean effort...but why would you wanna do that...
well you surely don't wanna miss out on walking...
ahhh...yeah walking...its no less than a tightrope adventure

and the feeling that overwhelms you, helps be a part of everything around...

nothing escapes and everything flies by...

the sun..hey ya...the sun woh that's a beauty...it just warms the cold bones...and the relaxes brow...

and if at any instant you miss some one or miss something...then all you have ter do...
is take another swig of that sweet brown nectar... they call it BEER...i call it beer as well...
wipe the froth...and say...

CHEERS eh...:)

aphorisms...take two - Being Unique...

a boy once saw something very minute...small particles that shone in varied colours ...

the minute particles at once caught his fancy...and the boy realised that he saw these particles easily when he narrowed his eyes or he when there was a a single ray of sun entering a dark room...

Maybe this was something special, something only he could see and probably he had some power which no one else had. This feeling of being a unique human-being overwhelmed him.

And it became his guarded secret. It made him happy and made him think that he was part of a bigger scheme of things.
One day he shared it with someone very close to him, a person who possessed more scientific knowledge than he did. This person told him that those things he saw can be seen by everybody else and are just dust particles. Shattering his belief was the best the person did.

But the small boy is not the only one who harnesses such beliefs. Every human being tries to find smallest of things that would make hi or her unique. This feeling of exclusivity has always captured humans.

every human has a tendency to feel unique, special and unparrelled ; that feeling makes him or her ordinary.

Aphorisms...take one

this is a story about a kid who wanted ter grow up and become a poet...

so this very curious kid goes ter his mum and asks her how to become a poet when he grows up...

the mother patiently listens ter him...and says...

you can either grow up or be a poet.

the child in us percieves the beauty around us in true sense.

and its the child in us that helps to portray that what we percieve,

i wonder...

Walkin on street staring ahead,
've got nothing to do
but drag my feet,
still got a mile to walk and i look at the sky,
'nd i just wonder,
i wonder why,
why she's upset at no reason,
will it happen every season,

a Quarter crossed
i think to pen it down;
the weird thoughts that cross my mind,
stare at the trees and i stare at the grass,
and i wonder;
i wonder how
i wonder why,
people need to tell them lies;
why the truth aint rewarded
as good and nice.

half distance across,
my brain is still at work,
kicking the pebbles and playin with my hair,
and i wonder;

i wonder how,
i wonder why,
why people need songs,
to make them happy,
is too difficult the past to,
forget even in love,

A quater left and I'm looking,
for a shorter cut,
finding none i just keep walking,
and i wonder,
i wonder how,
i wonder why,
this blue sky doesn't give me answers i'm lookin for,
and why do people complicate simple things anyway,

almost reached now and i
'll finish this song,
i stare at this
blue, blue sky,
and i wonder,
i keep wondering...

my two halves

the word life that
i play along with
has me in splits;

the sleep that
blankets me with
starry nights is split,
in sugarry dreams
and ghoulish nightmares;

the awakening that
comes with
a reluctant sun is split,
in fresh blossoms
and decayin carcass;

Life has me in splits,
of sorrows and laughter,
over and over,
over my two halves
of sorrows and laughter.

the word Truth that
i never question
has me in splits;

the fears that
surround me split,
in bitter truth
and spicy lies;

the present that
i walk in
without complains split
in glowing crimson embers
of hope,
and dark weary clouds
of disappointment;

Truth has me in splits,
of sorrows and laughter,
over and over,
over my two halves
of sorrows and laughter.