Monday, February 25, 2013

I got published -- finally! Yippee! :-)

I got published -- finally! Please download my e-Book from here:

Monkey business

I saw a monkey climbing a tree
He's fat but agile.

Like the true Charles Darwin's ape
He's fast, furious and brown.

Has come from the nearby town
Eating mangoes off the tree.

Gave the school children a fright
And, made 'em flee.

My kiddo niece Asfah's little pup

Little pup, little pup
Don't eat that bone.

It's bad for your tummy
Instead, have an ice cream cone.

It's sugary and yummy
My mummy made it with honey.

It's summer delight
You're furry and light.

Your granddad went into the space
Get ready for a race.

Still learning to whine
You're my little sunshine.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

My friend is a tribal warrior!

You look like an army brat
Tall, lean and broad-shouldered
You navigate like The Polynesians
You're an adventurer like David Henry Lewis.

You're a soccer buff
Street-smart and tough
You'd have been a fine gigolo
You've got the spunk of a tribal warrior.

You play LAN games
Compute complex numbers in a nanosecond like Srinivasa Ramanujan
You're from the Warrior Tribe
Do you rememeber our sparring bouts and early-morning long drives?

I'm going to miss you like anything
You're a friend of the friendless
It wasn't just beginner's luck when you won the first race
Go in peace -- you're battle hardened prince.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Bon voyage my friend

Bon voyage my friend, my chum
Time has come to say goodbyes
Let's have a last fag together
Do you still have time for supper?

It's going to be tough in the blazing sun
Everyday is going to be a new marathon
But you're like The Steadfast Tin Soldier
You've got fire in your belly -- you're a man of action.

Emirates is a magic land
Of camels, sea and sand
Gracious Arabs in white turban
Yep, princeling -- it's like Durban.

Remember me while on the run
Weren't my discourses fun?
You've got it in you
Perfect attitude and excellent education.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Advice to a friend . . . .

I can't be your mentor or guru
I'm not an Oxford or Cambridge blue.

Nor I went to the Harvard
I dropped out of a blackboard jungle.

I'm not right -- nor my school of thought
Don't follow people like me -- stay orthodox.

These are your schoolboy crush days
You won't understand my life -- it's like labyrinth and maze.

I lost my life in merrymaking -- rhymer
I've always been a delinquent and daydreamer.

My style is deviant and offbeat
Don't deviate -- stick to your roots -- stay uninfluenced.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Memoirs in verse

Writing poems is a feat -- rhyming is tricky indeed
Can't churn out masterpieces like John Keats.

I'm bleary-eyed and functional illiterate
Can't write libretto like Vikram Seth.

Writing poetry befits intellectual heavyweights
I'm schizoid and below average.

I'm pariah and meek
Everyone falsely thinks I'm an alpha geek.

I was in Abu Dhabi for long
Love Emiratis and their songs.

In the Nineteen Nineties -- BBSes were my world
There I met my Little Laura, a Bedouin girl.

She's pretty, vulnerable, bewitching but headstrong
It's like a breathtaking spring dawn -- I was whirly, awestruck and spellbound.

My brother-in-law was my chief
He didn't let me feign ill and take sick leave.

Tall, dark-complexioned Arab girls in black burka giggled and ogled
Getting a dinner date with a fun-loving, wonder girl was a cinch and piece of cake.

I was young, charming and hulky
Lady-killing was my forte.

I've to keep this PG-13 compliant
I can't write about my romantic escapdes.

Flying was my passion
My instructor Khaled Masood Bhatt turned out to be a mean-spirited, short-tempered old-timer.

I don't want to sound boastful -- but horse riding was and is really my obsession
I rode my polo pony like a crown prince -- girls blinked in disbelief, clapped in admiration and gasped in sheer amazement.

Saleem Mahmood Farooqui was my mentor and guru
He taught me the ABCs of all things I didn't know.

Ausaf saheb was God-fearing, good-humoured, charismatic and poetic
Nudged me gently to pray and write computer programs.

Rana Ranjit Saha was so evil -- like one-eyed devil
He's the Ravana in my life -- corrupt, uncivil, slicker and scheming sadist.

James Prabhakar was my first computer teacher -- demystified micro, mini and mainframes
Explained the nitty-gritty in great detail -- He's and still is so awe-inspiring and an avid intellectualist.

Monday, February 18, 2013

My Big Brother

His name is Saud
Helps lots of destitutes.

Held my finger when I was a toddler
Taught me how to walk.

He's so stout and has lot of clout
His character is unimpeachable and lofty.

Drives Toyota FJ Cruiser
Loves kitties and mousers.

Stood by me in times of rains and droughts
He knows Indian martial art.

He works very untiringly and hard
Hangs out with his brilliant sons -- Maaz, Emaad, Ammar and Saad.

His only daughter is Summayya
She's simple and sober but never somber.

He's immense patience
Doesn't get easily perturbed.

He's an ace -- won many accolades
Made our parents and us so proud.

His bestfriend is Ali Uddin
I know him closely since my teens.

He knows the fine art of conversation
But also listens patiently to your version.

Emirates is his second home since decades
But he's not into name-dropping of his political bigwig friends.

He's been to far away places like Austria and America
But loves his hometown like true Son of the Soil.

When I was young -- he bought me lots of comics
That's how reading became my lifelong habit.

He narrated stories of valor -- fables of Rostam and Sohrab
Chastised me when I acted chicken-hearted and loony.

He took me to the movies like The Jungle Book, Chhota Chetan and Touch the Sky
Growing up was so much fun with Big Brother on my side.

We made countless trips to the Exhibition, Circus and Zoo
He helped me on swings and slides -- patted me when The White Tiger gave me a fright.

The magic shows of P. C. Sorcar, Jr. were wonderful
'Water of India' trick made me dumbstruck.

He got mad if I bunked school or flunked an exam
I used to hide in the bathroom till our mother intervened.

He's a number-cruncher -- a Finance person
Keeps me on a tight leash -- doesn't give me bountiful of Dirhams.

He worked with Arabs, Americans and Germans
Taught me how to start DOS on a dual floppy disk drive system.

You can't sum him up in words -- his stature is such
There're no contradictions between his private life and the public persona.

This is just a light verse -- to cheer my up Big Brother
Because he hugged me and cried at the time of departure.

Friday, February 15, 2013

Queen ant

She'd be sheepish and shy
Aggressive and wild
So unpredictable and spitfire
Mood disorder and temper tantrum
Life with her is a mixed blessing.

She's an uncanny ability to counsel
She's my virtual nanny
She's my agony aunt
Her voice is life-giving and life-enhancing.

She loves Enrique Iglesias's Rhythm Divine
Wish she were totally and absolutely mine
I leech onto her pathetically -- but she doesn't whine
She's this Mother Teresa syndrome.

She goes for her morning walk
In her lane -- or across the block
She gets breathless as she trots
But gawking passers-by put her in a spot.

She's caring like Florence Nightingale
A real princess out of a fairytale
She's grace - She's my craze
She's like a fragile, brittle flower vase.

She types everything in lower case
And, makes teeny-weeny spelling mistakes
She texts like a tweenager
Vexes me like anything
She's an ardent weekender.

She's lots of energy, zest and zeal
Her face has this perfect orange peel appearance
Faintly conspiratorial twinkle in her eyes
She'd be amorous yet shy.

She hums and fiddles
She's quite a riddle
She preens and loves all things green
She's such a drama queen.

She's petite and fair
Has short, straight -- gold or blonde streaked hair
She's ravishing, hot and sensational
Sought-after marriage material.

She sticks out her tongue
Jokes and makes fun
But it's all intended pun
She's always on the run.

She calls me crackpot
My pet name for her is honeypot
I never won the jackpot
Nor I'm a big shot.

She writes rhymes or doodles sometimes
Her voice is like diva
Looks are divine
Manners are impeccable and fine.

She's like Queen of Sheba
Or a porcelain doll
Pretty and elegant
Pity she isn't on my Facebook wall.

She paraglides or jet-skis for fun
She's bold, brave, and adventuresome
Wish I'd a bicycle built for two -- just like in Daisy Bell
We'd have ridden in tandem.

Cessna people say flying is heart-pounding, life-altering and soul-reaffirming
I've experienced it first hand too
But life with her is much more than this
Believe me Jonathan Livingston Seagull -- dude.

She gets up precisely at six
Makes breakfast of hand-picked drumsticks
Then she fixes her hair
And, goes out to the fair.

Wish I'd a tree house
Where we'd have partied all night
In a jungle -- by the bonfire
This fantasy is far-fetched -- and, will give her a fright.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

My niece: Alo Mariya

I call her Alo Mariya
She's my favorite niece
Bubbly, bright and nice
She's zippy, zappy and personality B Type.

She writes amazing poems
Full of meaning and rhyme
You'd see stardust in her eyes
Her laughter is like chimes.

She's so celestial
Like a demigoddess surreal
Svelte, exotic and intriguing
Doesn't look like an earthling.

She wears skinny jeans
Looks like as if she's still in her teens
She's a baby-face
She's never into rat race.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Jawaab-e-Shikwa TWO

I wasn't a Prince Charming
That's why I lost my pretty darling
My life is so pseudo and fake
Wish I'd forsake everything and become a monk or sage.

I've lost my wars
I've fallen off my horse
Like General William Childs Westmoreland
I'm sad-faced, worrywart and cross.

I never won the toss
Always started on the wrong-foot, boss.

You're such a lark
Uncle Sam isn't a shark
Israel is a chum
You're naive, gullible and bum.

The enemy is within
Why do you blame the Jinn?
God will send angels on Burrakh
I'm not afraid of the Scrooge and the dark.

My memory is bad
I don't remember what I'd in breakfast or brunch
Or whose face was there on the newspaper front.

I was never a clock watcher
Hourglass is of no use to me
My life is over -- my friend, my brother.
Take these oars
It's your turn
To row across the river
To a life of pompous, fun, fame and reverie.

I'm semi-blind
I can't tell you the time
But I'd tell you one thing
Get this straight
I'm sentenced to the stake.

It's semblance
There's no man in the moon
I'm ill-fated and fool
Wish I hadn't dropped out of school.

Transsexuality and gayness
That's very coarse, crass and sad
But you got to stick to your sexual orientation -- lad
You've got to be honest with yourself and your flock and folks
Who's brain-washing you?
Are they Taliban chaps?

I'm liberal and-er-ahem-not metrosexual
Dead against plutocratical
I'm peace-loving and God-fearing
Won't hurt a living thing.

I'm not hard-headed
My loyalties aren't promiscuous
Fidelity is in my blood
I love my country and fellow countrymen
If you don't believe me?
Then hara-kiri my guts.

You're so sly and coy
Like the Trojan of Troy
What has possessed you?
Has the Devil got you?

You're such a boy
Still playing with toys
Baby tooth under your pillow?
Tooth fairy in your dreams?

You're a conformist and a rookie 
Oblivious to real games
People are vicious and snaky
I've been victimized and framed.

It's raining in the Winter
Isn't that insane?
Let's do something about this
Before it becomes a bane.

Mosquitoes are buzzing again
Is it the same everywhere?
or just in our lane?
Oh, I'm being so mediocre and mundane.

Don't push your luck
I'm psychotic and thug.

A friend keyed-in this poem for me: Shikwa TWO

A trustworthy decoy
I've earned myself its joy
The cost of it was to be coy
Didn't mind being called a gay

You were most eligible
But also incorrigible
It's never too late
Don't be obstinate

Life is still on your side
Just count those bounties and decide
Time is of the essence
Let's seek forgiveness before it all ends

Transexuality and gayness are darks
Uncle Sam and Israel are sharks
Lucifer is an enemy to mankind
With a mission to capture your mind.


Tuesday, February 5, 2013


Hey, Mister Decoy
Why're you so shy and coy?
Come out in the open
Don't be a closet gay!

Why're you so curious and prying?
When'd you seriously stop trying?
You're fumbling in the dark
I won't let the skeleton in the closet come out tumbling
Let's talk about tweaking Windows Eight
Don't you know that it's the newest OS in cyberspace?
You've got a poker face!

You can't solve my problems.
Wish I'd a harem full of prettiest houris and babes
Let me be in peace.
Buy me a meal - burger with plenty of cheese!

My story is awfully sad
You're not so bad
Let's talk about something vogue and fad
You're an inquisitive and nosy lad
You may have vested interest -- who knows?
You're foxy and brat.
My world is full of snitchers and decoys
When I was young I fought many skirmishes and wars
I was like a tunnel rat
Now I'm old -- caught in friendly fire.

I can't ride horses or spar anymore
But I'd still see bright-colored kites -- dancing in the sky and do chores
My troubles are great
But I'd still walk upright and straight

I'm not a genius
But a nature's freak
You're wrongly impressed
I'm not an alpha geek.

My morals are weak
I'm such a creep.
Life is like a Sisyphean-ordeal
Of this fakir and dervish.

I'm transsexual -- And, you're gay
That's why - our bond is like hardened clay.

I've hurt my Mom and Dad -- siblings and friends
I'm definitely going to lose -- if you put me through trial by fire
It's penance time
Life is uphill and steep
Why're you so curious to know my sob story?
When there's no purpose and gain?

I've done things evil, dark and bleak
I've no strength of character and grit
It hurts -- as if a crow pecking my eyes out with its beak
I'd barely even bleat
Like a dying, sacrificed sheep in summer heat

I may have given a few pennies to the poor
But I'm not generous or like Hatim al-Tai in the lore.

I'd stop playing Osho.
I'd never be your guru or mentor
I'm of frail body and mind
Lowly and vile.

I've cheated and lied
My head is hung in shame
Lost my life chasing dames
Now I'm broke, notorious and lame
How'd I possibly blame anyone else?
It's all my game.

I couldn't make my parents proud
Now I cry and wail

My life is full of trials
It's like hellfire
There's no relief
There's no rain
Only problems, stigma and pain

Yes, I still think you're a decoy
And a closet gay
Let's have a fag and sway
Problems don't always stay.

A friend keyed-in this poem for me: Shikwa

Hey Mr. Troubled
What's your story?
Just a wee curious
I have no purpose

I know you have problems
Let's just talk, I know I can't solve 'em
No, I'm not a closet gay
It was just a mistake

A genius & a jack of all trades
Loves the joy of giving away in spades
Horses are passion & classic is your choice
The joy of winning keeps you alive.

Ethos are high, never heard a lie
My guru never even hurt a fly
My mentor is strong, never does he cry
Be he still thinks I'm a decoy.