Sunday, September 30, 2012

Bozoical Visarjan Tales

Bozo, Mumbai's  only dog-with-his-own-blog  really cannot understand  the bipeds.

They celebrate the arrival of  Lord Ganpati Bappa with so much joy, and it continues for ten days of worship, and decorations, preparations of delectable prasad, and many social and cultural performances.  

At the end of the ten days, why do they "celebrate" the departure ?  In party mode ?  With so many suffering from an overdose of noise, pollution in the air, and other problems?

Of course, Bozo is privy to certain e-conversations with the mouse that is Bappa's vehicle, since both he and the mouse can hear much more than the bipeds.  All he can do is find his own solutions for dealing with this.  And Magiceye captured him in one such moment .....

You know,
I can hear much more
than you can.

In frequencies , that is.

And I have 18 muscles,
that allow me
to move my ears
any which way I want....

unlike you bipeds,
I get to hear conversations
Lord Ganpati and his
transport mouse ,
as the immersion processions
trundle on
till late at night....

And I hear that
the Lord wonders,
why the bipeds
actually celebrate His departure
as if they are happy about it ?

electronnic music,
woofers, people screaming
and dancing.
And then
a dip in an ocean
already crowded with junk....

we dogs yawn
when we are stressed,
and I kept doing that last night....

But just think,
Bappa cannot even do that,
like it happened before,
folks will start
another celebration,
Bappa wants to drink milk..... 

I hear
Bappa really likes
small children in parades,
school kids doing Lezim,
and devotional singing,
so misses it today....

I guess He already knows,
that politicians
have taken over his festival,
and everything
is now for
show of power.

Bappa doesnt vote,
so no one will listen to Him ....

Maybe he should.
Teach everyone a lesson.
In sense,discipline,devotion,
and concern for your fellow citizens...

Ganpati Bappa Morya !

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Breakfast Wars

My friend Swati Maheshwari, blogger, photographer,traveler,environmentalist and entrepreneur, had something to say about this breakfast she recently had , and clicked, half way through, and posted on twitter.

It just occurred to me , that had this breakfast been of another variety, she wouldn't have had time to click.......

I mean it isn't a patch on some excellent idli/vada sambaar , vada paav and filter kapi, is it ? ....

In keeping with the characteristic of the breakfasts mentioned, the poem is bilingual :-)

(photograph by Swati Maheshwari)
Dame Lettuce
in her flouncy dress,
sitting with the skirt strewn around,
really trying
to overshadow
the tomato,
much cut up with this bossgiri...

As the very Propah
Lord Omelette
only when approached
by the Knife
and the fork,
watched from a distance by
a butter and jam
simply yearning for some bread.

The juice,
with years of
agitated experience,
simply sighs,
and says,
 क्यूँ  यह  सब  "क्वीन"वाल्ला
लोर्ड  और लेडी  नाश्ता  ?

इतनी  दुनिया  देखी ,
इतने  ब्रेकफास्ट   के  पीछे  मै  भागी ,
लेकिन  मुझे  लगता  है
सब    को  मिलाके  बनाया  हुआ
चटनी  में  डूबा  डूबा  कर 
या  साम्बार  में
फ्रीस्टाईल करता  हुआ  ब्रेकफास्ट
और  ही  मजेदार  होता  है ....

ब्रेड भाई      को  कभी  पूछा  क्या ,
की  उसे
कांटे  से  लाया  आमलेट  का  टुकड़ा 
गरम  गरम  बटाटा  वडा  /चटनी
इन  में  से
कौन  पसंद  है  ?...."

Friday, September 28, 2012

Worship technology....

A very perceptive click . At Pali, in the Raigad District of Maharashtra,  at the famous Ballaleshwar temple, off the Mumbai-Pune highway, the abode of the famous temple  constructed bt Nana Fadnavis, in stone, to replace the original wooden temple, in 1760. The temple is constructed in such a way that after the winter (dakshinayan : southward movement of the sun) solstice, the sun rays fall on the Ganesha murti at sunrise. The temple is built with stones which are stuck together very tight using melted lead.

 Photographed  by  a member of the Bisons Ride Hard group, that recently went on a 4 day Dashavinayak darshan by motorcycle across Maharashtra's Ganpati Temples.

CCTV's seem to be the technology of choice, allowing  the devotees a two dimensional darshan of an n-dimensional Lord.   Many years ago, one could peer in at the door, under special circumstances even get closer to the Lord.  There were then no steel railings; just self defined ones in the mind....

Things have changed.

The head understands but the heart does not.

I just have one question....and no answers !   

Cool Gaabharaas,
Sanctum Sanctorums,
resplendent with
ancient stone,
gold, silver, vermilion

and silk vastras,
atmosphere redolent with a
dedicated mixture
dhoop, agarbattis, lamps,
jasmines, roses, hibiscus, 

milk, panchamrit,
and Durwa
amidst recitations
of prayers
and revolving aartis....

No one allowed in
to see Him,
but a view
on a flat,
depthless television screen
makes everyone
pray, and behave.

In daily life too,
we don't see Him,
know he is there,
but strangely,
folks don't behave....

Why ?

Saga of the Pink Guava..

A typical sight when you travel out of the Maharashtra cities. Rural folk, old ladies in nine yard sarees, a young girl on a school break, or even a young fellow sitting on his haunches , sometimes on the roadside, sometimes in temple bylanes; selling fresh guavas, fresh off the trees.

Cut,smeared with masala, they make an amazing addition to snacks eaten on trips.  One such trip, undertaken by a group called Bisons Ride Hard, on motorcycles, doing a pilgrimage of all the various Ganesh Temples in Maharashtra, to celebrate the ongoing Ganpati festival.

Sometimes, Ganpati Bappa smiles, sometimes even the guava smiles, and sometimes even folks, a thousand miles away,  smile....

young ladies.

Born and brought up
in the plains of the Deccan,
hanging around on trees
by riversides,
they always wondered
about the
roaring two wheelers
with chaps in uniform
going by with a flag,
depicting a wilder version
of buffaloes
they saw around the farms.

Coming of age
they hung out
in lovely baskets
by the roadside,
and in temple courtyards,
with Banana Bhais,
and sometimes
with Granny Sitaphal
keeping a beady eye on them.

Then one day,
he roared by,
astride a Royal steed,

a bit invisible in his helmet,
and came to a stop.

Looked at them all,
asked his
pillion riding friend,
and decided
on one.

The old lady
near the basket,
held her up,
and said ,
"Saheb, bagha !
Tumchi nivad achook ahe ..."***
and the lady guava smiled,
blushed pink
was captured on film....

Far away,
in a nippy morning in Delhi,
another lady ,
nodded to herself in great satisfaction..... 

*** Marathi for "Sir, your choice is perfect !"

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Zen and the Art of Nishkaam cleansing

Each group pursuing their own . Karma.

Some, on a DashaVinayaka Yatra on their motorcycles, visiting the various Ganpati temples of Maharashtra , celebrating the Ganesh festival, revving up the coastal and backroads of Maharashtra, to worship the Lord and learn about the people.

And some, more colorful,  on a permanent cleansing Yatra,  letting the rivers carry away the exhaust from their lives, unchanged, day after day, season after season. 

Both worship.  But  fruits of some labour are more tangible than the others ....

(All photos by members of the DashaVinayaka Yatra )


with thudding innards,
creating power
with dedicated systems
sparking in Bhakti

amidst an attar
petrol and air,
pushing up the
Mountains of Dedication,
and cruising by Rivers of Prayer,
appealing to the Lord,
to keep
those Wheels of Life
turning smoothly,
as the Sins,
smashed and stirred to smithereens,
exit angrily,
behind them all.

And some,
by Holy Rivers,
energised biceps,
and quadriceps,
giving the dirty
world a good dunking,
followed by a
Villany on the Stone,
as they wash away
the Sins,
of those too busy ,
and allow them to
exit with the soap suds,
meekly dripping ,
in tears.


One sips from a green fruit
of their labour.

The other expects none.

The Yin, Yang and the Yum of it all.....

My friend , Shruti Nargundkar of Melbourne, posted a wonderful post about Matar Karanji/Gujiya/Calzones on her blog , in a post , "Less is more, More is Less". 

Karanji's made with a pastry of Rawa(cream of wheat), Maida(all purpose flour), woth a lashing of hot melted butter, allowed to sit a bit, nicely covered in a cool corner, and then stuffed with a spicy concoction of green peas, crushed potatoes, and tongue tickling spices, finally fried an served. 

Read Shruti's recipe on her blog.

Perfect for the approaching festive season in India.....

and even more so for a dedication in Marathi and English ...:-)

वर्गशिक्षिका आणि मुख्याध्यापिका बाई ,
आपल्या ए. सी. दालनात बसून ,
आपल्याच विचारात मुरल्या आहेत ;
तशी मोहन रावांची मदत आहे म्हणा ,
पण आज काल वर्गात
दंगा करणारी मुलं जरा ज्यास्तच करतायत ....

बाहेर  येउन बघतात तर काय ,
सर्व मटार व बटाटे  आपापल्या जागा सोडून ,
वर्गातील  तिखट मसालेदार टग्या मंडळीन बरोबर
चकाट्या पिटत बसली आहेत ....

थोडा लाटण्याचा वापर,
थोडा वरवणट्याचा दणका ,
आणि सर्व मुलं शिस्तीत मध्ये जमा  होतात ,
बाई सर्वांना एकत्र गोळा करतात,
गुंडाळून घेतात ,
आणि मुलांना भाजणार नाही
अश्या प्रकारे स्वताहाला गरम तेलात झोकून देतात .

थोडे रुसणे फुगणे चालतेच,
काही तर थोडे लाल पण होतात,
पण जरा शांत झाले,
कि चटणी ताईला बघून खूप खुश होतात .

थोड्क्यात  काय , 
आता मुलांची गडबड
एका मोठ्या प्लेट मध्ये चालूच राहते ......
Rawa Ma'am and Princi Maida ma'am
deep in thought,
in their cool airconditioned room,
resting a bit
after tangling
with some Hot Fat melting types;
and they wonder,
given what they notice,
if children in class today
are more indisciplined.....

They emerge outside,
in time to see
the peas and potato kids
running haywire
messing around
with the wild and young
spicy masala mafia types,
nicely ensconced, gossipping away.....

A few lessons in action
with the rolling pin,
a few with a hefty pestle,
and they all fall in together,
as the ladies gather them close,
wrapping around them,
before throwing themselves
into a cauldron
of a festively hot oil.

Some puffing up,
some anger
some burning of the cheeks,
but they calm down as they cool,
away from the heat,
and rejoice
at the sight
of their comrade-in-hands, Chutney.

After all,
they are children.
And the excitement continues
as they pile up in the large plate.....

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Morning has broken ......

The power of a visual.

My friend Sangeeta Khanna posted this Good Morning visual from Delhi, some time ago today. 

Such is its power, that even after logging on after  having breakfast in muggy Mumbai, it gave a sense of a cool nippy Delhi morning,  a lady walking in from her green garden with a small basket of Prajakta flowers, pouring herself an amazing tulsi or hibiscus tea ,  and enjoying a great morning , say , in a verandah or balcony, with assorted birds chirping away.

Sigh. What a difference from early morning cooker whistles, garlic tadka smells,  honking car horns, and  a reversing car playing the latest item song.....

A new day.

Some steep themselves,

out of the garden
into a teapot,
giving of themselves,
to warm your hands,
surround you with flavour
warm down
a fasting throat.

shake excitedly
tumble down
in your path,
as you take
an early morning garden walk
and then sit quietly
in the tray
strewing magic in the air
applauding the
tea leaves,
giving off themselves.

Birds tweeting,
amidst the jungle of green.

Your early morning 5 senses alert.

So many doing so much for us.

Just wondering if WE even try ......

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

A Crabby Life .....

My young friend, Sharvari Paranjape of Pune, just out of school /or about to, accompanies her photography crazy family, to all these wild life parks/reserves in the state  and also the various beaches of Kokan.

She has figured earlier on this blog with her amazing monkey pictures.

This  is a capture at the  Karde Beach in Kokan.

As per tradition, this blog always roots for the underdog, this time specifically under a rock.....originally in Marathi, then an afterthought in English.

दबा धरून बसलेले खेकडे
मागे गेले तर महागाई खाली चिरडणार,
पुढे गेलं तर भ्रष्टाचाराच्या लाटानखाली
गटांगळ्या खाणार ....
चौफेर लक्ष देत जगलं,

तरी हळू हळू पुढे जायचं,
कुणाच्यातरी पायाखाली
नाहीतर जाळ्यात न येण्याची पराकाष्ठा करायची ,
आणि सगळ्याना चुकवत
आयुष्याचा रस्ता सापडला
कि कोणीतरी येउन उचलाव,
आणि हात पाय तोडून
आगीच्या फोफाट्यात भाजावं,
वाह वाह म्हणाव .....
हे काय आयुष्य आहे ?

That crabby feeling.

Take a step back,
and get crushed
and squeezed
by the rocky costs of living.

Move ahead,
and get swallowed
in the tsunami of corruption
erupting in waves
around you.

And if,
by some tentative ingenuity,
wide eyed alertness
you avoid being trodden on
netted by danger,
there is always
that mercenary one
who picks you up,
cracks your limbs,
and throws you to broil
in the fire,
licking his lips,
in anticipation
of the meal.
Is that a life ?

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Walks, Heads and Loads

My FB friend NandanTavanandi  posted some great clicks on his visit to the Sinhagad Fort  near Pune. 

Like this visual of the local women, climbing the fort via the small pathways, possibly carrying the days food and other requirements for those family members working  and/or attending the local school few kilometres way ....

Something they do, year round, regardless of the weather, the road condition etc.

And it just reminded me about something else....

learning to walk as adults,
book on head,
chiseled to perfection,

in designer outfits
straightened protected ramps
in controlled surroundings
with programmed applause,
steeped in stress....

And some,
on a permanent climb,
with loads of worries,
all carried
up Life's Hills,
on a balanced head,
a sensibly tucked saree,
and a
stick to support,
as they chat about
families, kids,
food, prices,
and gossip,
and meander through life's paths,
by the flowers,
the grass,
the trees.

Someone waits
for lunch at the peak,
and the Bhakri must not get cold...

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Baingan India Chaat Week

Being an expert on nutrition, health and traditional regional cuisine is one thing. Being an academic expert botany researcher, a bird expert and trekker , is another.

But being able to innovate in positive ways, and then photograph it in yummy ways, is something my blogger friend Sangeeta Khanna is very good at.

This photo of chaat she had for dinner, had many drooling.  I even wrote a poem. And then I found out that this chaat doesnt use puris  at all ! 

 Sliced grilled spiced aubergines (Baingan to us chaatwallas) , used as base, covered with aloo tikky crumble,  a cool layer of spiced dahi(plain yogurt), and a final splash of date and tamarind chutney.  And then , as a piece de resistance,  a generous fistful of some special small size cooked garbanzos , hitherto referred below as Chhole Ubale.

(The poem was written before the above discovery .  So read the high calories poem as you enjoy the concept of the high protein, low calorie chaat).

Have some ! :-))

Straight tough puris,
and all that,
participating in an evening,
in the midst
of some
finely chiseled onions,
matching bashful tomatoes,
some dada style
finally cooked and smashed
watched by a victorious
Lady Coriander
with the Chilly chamchas,
and waiting
avidly for a
fashionable Sev and Spice Sprinkle

The devout puris
overcome with all this
suddenly realise
the arrival of Chhole Ubale,
immediately grab
and hide behind
the dahi ghunghat;
where they come from,
puris don't
show their faces,
the various
Chutney ladies appear
and take charge of the proceedings...

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Bozoical Portraits

Contrary to what you might think, no, Bozo, Mumbai's only dog-with-his-own-blog is not standing for elections.

This could be a photograph of Bozo, taken  through some kind of spotted surface , or it could be a special effect incorporated on to a photo, post clicking, by his mentor and chronicler, Magiceye.

Whatever, Bozo has some clear thoughts about this.  He does not enjoy being framed, despite that wonderful light shining in his eyes......

They say
a photograph
is a portrait
painted by the Sun.....

But in a Mumbai
having a weird delayed
and skies
clobbered with clouds,
even the Sun cannot paint,
and what you get
is a
portrait like this
possibly painted
by the occasional raindrops.

Give me
those photos
of me,
relaxing on the cool floor,
looking in the mirror,
standing on my hind legs
peering out
of the balcony,
or even
posing with my Olympic medal.

This one makes me feel
like the photos
of folks in Post Offices
and Mantralaya,
who stand for elections,
and peer down in power
from walls.

And I dont like that.

Because I dont do elections.

I was born a Winner , Ok ?

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Loading society, dieting mares .....

This is a click posted on the Project Jugaad Page on FB. Jugaad is the local word that means grassroots innovation to overcome any constraint .

For some reason, the slight of the slim overloaded animal reminded me of the recent quote by Gujarat CM Modi, where he attributed the women's malnutrition in his state to the tendency of the women  to ignore health and  diet for the sake of fashion.

The beauty conscious
dieting mare,
pushed into it,
by a helpless elder,
and then loaded
under the weight
no access to quality education,
hitherto made available
by family
only to horses.

No roof,
unavailable nutrition,
unaffordable clothes,
undreamable ornaments,
tightly reined in
wishing to gallop.....

One must be grateful
for good roads
rubber wheels,
that make her pulling easier.

She doesn't know
that the roads
were actually made
for white horses,
carrying decorated bipeds
selling themsleves
for money.....

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Ode to the Bhindi ! भेंडीची गोष्ट

Times have changed. Folks actually are going back to old tried and tested , simple recipes .

Like simple Bhindi(Okra) sabji, made in stirfry fashion , sometimes with onions and/or potatoes, , with sprinklings of salt, chilly powder, maybe cumin powder.

My blogger friend Shruti Nargundkar, of Melbourne,  posted a delicious capture of Bhindi sabji in her FB group Sikandalous Cuisine. As she mentions "For some, this is the only vegetable they eat apart from potato (is potato a vegetable?)  ....  Others hate it with a passion!   Goes well with rice or rotis, with dal, sambar, rasam or kadhi!"

This vegetable is sold at $12 a kilo in Melbourne!
I thought it deserved an Ode . In  Marathi and English.....

(photo by Shruti Nargundkar)
बाळबोध, साध्या,
दोन्ही खांद्या वरून
व खोपा घातलेल्या डोक्यावरून
हिरव्या साडीचा पदर लपेटून,
बायकांच्या गोतावळ्यात फिरणार्या ,
एक खूप हळव्या आजी .

कधी मनात छोटे विचार येतात
कधी लंबे लंबे विचार तंग करतात ,
पण आयुष्यात कढइवाले गरमीचे दिवस आले
कि खरच मसाला भरभरून रडू येत .
बिया सुद्धा जवळ रहात नाहीत ,
आणि चक्क साडीभर
बुट्ट्यानसारख्या सैर भैर होतात .

थोडा आंबट जवळ काही असलं तर बरं वाटतं,
रडारड कमी होते ....
समाधान एव्हडेच ,
कि कठीण दिवसात
कांदा भौजी , आणि बटाटा भौजी
नेहमीच साथ देतात,
आणि हल्डीबाई, हिंगोबा, मिर्चीमाव्शी
आणि नारळरावांनी
आजपर्यंत तरी नेहमीच साथ दिली आहे .
शेवटी, आपलं आयुष्य
भाकरीच्या तुकड्यावर अवलंबून असतं न ?
An innocent softhearted
green grandma,
hair in a simple khopa bun,
wraps her green saree
majorly around her
head and shoulders,
as she
hangs out with her folks
thinking of her life.

Sometimes small thoughts,
and sometimes,
some long worrying ones;
the trouble is,
that she weeps into the masala
in the heat
of a kadhai moment,
and even the seeds
go haywire
like the design dots on her green sari....

Of course,
having someone
sour and strong around
always works
at controlling the tears;
And she is grateful,
to Monsieurs Onion and Potato,
not to mention,
the loyal
Turmerica, Asofoetida, and Jalapena,
who with the Coconut chaps
have always
stood by in support.

At the end of the day,
you are only good,
till the
Bhakri piece wraps you up
and goes away, isnt it!

Monday, September 10, 2012

The Molecule Corps Rises !

A billion strong endless sea
with so many
young, old,
men,women and children,

And there are those,
who lurk around,
carelessly riding on
Black Avenues
full of rich dirt.

They ruffle and disturb the sea,
followers tumbling in
pretending to clean
but really
cleaning out someone else,
while some
like an evil  tsunami
mess all over
scraping a good man here,
kidnapping a woman there,
filling minds with silt
rendering some homeless.

And the simple folks
remained soaked,
apathetic, disturbed
and what is worse,
of all that dirt.

But wait,
deliverance is at hand.

Be the Molecule Corps  !!

Mix with all,
Vibrate and disseminate
your action,
shutting up those,
who've avariciously
loaded up on everything
they saw in  front,
as well as those
who aspired to power
grabbed at the top.

Shake up,
Churn amidst the dirt,
Vibrate and throw out
all those
blemished folks,
sitting soaked
in their dubious reputations.

Whirl around with energy
and the sea
will be yours
and clean
to enjoy,
once again ,
you Surf around and visit....

This  was written and submitted for the The Surf Excel Matic #SoakNoMore Contest  organized by indiblogger and  HUL

Sunday, September 9, 2012

A Beautiful Footing

An unusual event, a recent Blogadda blogger meet where the camera belonged to one blogger and the feet belonged to another.

And in the midst of fancy technology wireless talk, a few wire design things got clicked.

Yes, the footwear was lovely and interesting.

But so was the message .

growing up as responsible trunks,
branches flowering,
spreading up to the sky;
to watch the Sun;
to offer shade;
sometimes to
offer a home
to those trying
to build their own nests.

Folks admire
and photograph it all;
but it takes
special perception,
to realize,
and photograph
that firmly,
sometimes indulgently,
made it all possible.....

A Bozoical Joy

Bozo, Mumbai's only dog-with-his-own-blog cannot be happier.  The rains have returned to Mumbai, it is actually cooler, and this monsoon there are more folks at home than before, because some folks don't have to go to work everyday.. 

Bozo, in his "schwaanprasthashram"  now enjoys all the good things of life; rubs, tickles, scratching of back ad ears, lying down pretending to watch television next to his mentor and chronicler Magiceye. Of course he is wary of the new entrant called "Desert Storm" in the family, but as an elder, he ignores its presence in the garage.  I mean whoever heard of a motorcycle that could smile, wag its tail, and enjoy delicious meals ?

Never mind.  Bozo is a benevolent chap. 

Long ago,
a great man recommended
simple living and high thinking.

Of course,
you have no way
of knowing
if my thinking is high or low.
But I've always been
a proponent of simple living.

Not for me,
being brushed
and bathed by special staff,
and then
a ride in a Mercedes
to Otters Club followed by
a walk on the Promenade,
in my new French collar,
and German retractable leash,
smirking at the
other chaps outside CCD.

I have my walks and stuff
my own special things
like my Olympic medal collar
which I wear outside.

But what I love
is to have a light meal
with my family,
greet folks when they visit,
nuzzle up,
and get tickled and scratched;
sometimes, my back,
sometimes by stomach,
and sometimes even my ears ,
the good feeling
simply shines through my eyes.

Unlike some bipeds,
we don't guffaw,
but we wag our tails,
and smile,
emanating a great silent laugh.

You will never know
the joy
of stretching ,
and falling asleep
at someones feet,
quietly snoring,
on a cool Mumbai Sunday noon,
when it rains people and cats outside....

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Breakfast Philosophy at 32,000 feet

Rajabhau aka my blogger and FB friend Priyadarshan Kale,is a connoiseur of traditional Maharashtrian foods, an expert on where you get the best stuff, and often posts amazing photos of the foods on FB. He mostly drives to these places.

 He recently flew Mumbai-Bengaluru on any early morning flight, possibly on an empty stomach.

 He was tormented by the inability of the breakfast trolley , which appeared to be moving at snails pace across the rows, to reach him, way at the back of the plane.

 And he desperately posted his hungry and angry status on FB.

This poem was posted in response and support ....
(Marathi and English versions side by side ....a new experiment)

अवकाशातील आसनांमधली लक्षवेधक हालचाल ,
सुमधुर स्मितांचे गणवेशातले हाय-फाय फवारे ,
ढकल गाडीच्या गुप्त पोटातून बाहेर येणारे
उपमा,वडे व टोस्ट चे खमंग ट्रे.

राजाभाऊ , शेवटून तिसऱ्या ओळीत
खडबडून जागे होत्तात ;
पोटात मिसळीला लाज वाटावी इतकी कालवाकालव ,
क्षणोक्षणी हवाई सुंदरीचा येणारा राग ,
आणि एवढ्यात फोन वाजतो (स्पैसजेट मध्ये चालतं).....
"अहो, म्हटलं नाश्ता झाला का ?
जरा अर्धा तास असता तर साबुदाणा खिचडीचा डबा दिला असता ....."

आणि राजाभाऊ पुनाश्च डोळे बंद करतात ,
पट्टा आवळतात ,
मग दात ओठ आवळतात ,
आणि मुंबईचे रस्त्यांचे खड्डे मोठे
का आपल्या पोटातला खड्डा मोठा ,
ह्याचा विचार करत
म्हणतात ,

"गीतेत म्हटल्या प्रमाणे
आपण फक्त आपले काम करत रहावे,
फलाची अपेक्षा ठेवू नये ,

पण काय हो,
एखादा मेदुवडा तरी ?"
Interesting attractive movements
high up in the sky,
Sophisticated gestures
with sprinkles
of pre-planned smiles,
emerging from the innards
of a moving trolley,
servings and trays
of Upma, Vadas and toast.

stewing in the third-last row,
wakes up with a start ;
Plaintive pains in an abdomen,
emptily pining for Misal,
and a growing anger
against the airhostess.

The phone rings (it works in spicejet)
"Hi, hope you've had breakfast ....
Could have packed you
some sabudana khichadi
if you had waited...."

Rajabhau swallows,
leans back , eyes closed;
first his seat belt,
then his lips and teeth,
and wonders
if the
emptiness in his stomach
exceeds the
emptiness of Mumbai's potholes;

to his hungry fate,
he thinks,
"I should really follow
the Bhagwad Gita Philosophy;
Keep doing your work,
without thinking of
the fruits of that labor..";

a small voice in his mind
pipes up and asks,
"Not even a small Meduwada ?".....