For God’s Sake

Once, long ago, in the dim and distant past, in a small house in a quiet little corner of Heaven, lived God, God’s mother and God’s father. God’s father had just retired, and he would sit around and read his newspaper or tend the garden or something, while God’s mother did the housework, as ever. Meanwhile, God was busy with His work. All in all it was a serene little household.

One day God had gone out to His workshop to do His creations. God’s father was sitting in his study with the crossword when he suddenly wanted to ask God something. So called his wife and said, "Dear, where’s God?"

"God knows," the mother replied.

"Well," said God’s father, "For God’s sake, call Him, I want to talk to Him."

So God’s mother went out to the porch and called, "God, God, Gaaaaaaaawd, where are you, your father wants to talk to you."

But God was busy with His work and in any case someone or the other was always calling Him. So He did not pay much attention and went on creating.

So God’s mother went back to her husband and said, "I called and I called and I called but He just won’t reply."

Hearing this, God’s father was livid. He threw down his paper and stormed up to the workshop where God was creating.

"God," said His father, "Didn’t you hear your mother calling you?"

"I think I did," replied God absently, "So it was mother who was calling, was it?"

God’s father became really angry then. He said, "You heard her calling you and yet you didn’t reply?" He stared at God, who just glanced up from His work and smiled.

God’s father shook with anger. He glared at God and said, "You heard you mother calling you and yet you didn’t bother to reply. Well, I’m telling you, from now on you shall hear many people calling you but you shall never able to answer a single call."

Like in all stories, the curse worked.

Today when people call God, He can hear them, but He is unable to answer. It is not His fault.

Or is it?

And why does He always get a capital H?

Despair

India my homeland, my nation,
The haven of religious proliferation.
The land of many a God, many a teacher,
Many a saint, among whom feature
Krishna and Rama, Buddha and Mahavira;
Ramakrishna, Nanak and Kabir in times nearer.
And today, in this land of the Maharishis
The girl child is one of the endangered species.

India, my country, my motherland,
Where great men were born once, I understand;
Men like Gandhi and Raman and Tagore,
And Netaji and Panditji and many more;
Sages, all, in some way or the other,
Sages, serving their Mother.
And today, in this land of the sages
Religion is the watchword of violent outrages.

Be Happy That You're Alive

Life is but a fight
From morning till night;
So what?
Would you rather be dead and interred
Than alive, albeit wed and splintered!

Love Me Do, But Carefully

Love thy neighbour,
Love with heat;
But, for God's sake
Be discreet.

Love is splendid,
Love pervades,
Yet at times love
Leads to AIDS.

True Love

I love your perfect complexion,
Your lovely molars suit me fine,
I love your beauty unashamedly;
Darling, darling, come be mine.

I love you when you encourage,
I love you when you undermine,
I love you when you tangle me
In you fingers, like a twine.

I love your smile, your breathless ‘ooh’,
I love your hair that’s serpentine,
I love your humour, spleen and bounce;
Just say ‘yes’ and I’ll be thine.

I love your lively acrobatics,
Your preference for sixty nine;
But above all I love your moolah;
Will you be my Valentine?


(Written on Valentine Day, 2006.)

Unique Occurence

This morning, 2 minutes and 3 seconds after one,
I had some fun;
Without too many tocks and ticks,
My digital clock read 01:02:03:04:05:06!

What a strange, delightful sequence;
Doesn't occur with much frequence,
In fact, this will never again be seen
Until we are all dead and disappeared from the scene.