on a lighter note Uncategorized

The deadline

Like all
Responsible parents
We too have 
A deadline
It’s strict
You could get
A rap
A shout
A kneeling down
Or worse
If you’re not
Back home
In time
The rules
Can be relaxed
By half an hour
But not more
He’s found a solution
He doesn’t ring
Our bell when late
Beyond the
Half an hour
Off he scoots
To his grandmother’s
His nana
Then comes the call
I’m not surprised
He didn’t see 
The time he says
He’s afraid
To come home
Let him be
Let him stay
We give in
He comes next day
With his big smile
All is forgotten 
The next day
Off again 
To his grandmother’s
This time we
Put our foot down
Send him
Right back home
The bell rings,
He’s there
His eyes full of tears
And who’s there
Behind him
But his grandmother
His nana
Let him be
He’ll not do this
Another time
We must obey
His grandmother 
His nana
Then there’s the day
His grandmother 
Is waiting 
With a stick
The doorbell rings
Not my fault 
Says he
I way playing 
My eyes on the ball
How do you expect 
For me
To move my eye 
On the ball
To the clock?
My mother tries
To repress her smile
To appear stern
She gives up
He’s safe
He’s let off 
One more time 
Then it’s bad
He’s absconding 
We can’t find him
We’re concerned
He lands up
At dinner time
Why didn’t you come
For lunch we say
Oh I ate
At my friend’s place
His mom had made
Pao bhaji
That won’t do
We tell him 
You must inform
Whose house you’re in
I’ll surely will
He’s let off
Another day
Not to be seen
Till evening comes
We send our daughters
To look out for him
Ask the security
Whose house he’s in
Call his friend’s mothers
There no sight
Of him
Then he comes
Ready to cry
Why didn’t you
Tell us
Which friends house
You were in
Like we told you to?
No mamma
I would have told
I wasn’t the whole day
In anybody’s house
I was 
In the clubhouse 
Now the clubhouse 
Has a phone
But we give up
And he’s let off
Once again
He is late
My friend’s ball
Got lost says he
I was being good
Helping him
Find it
His tale is true
He doesn’t lie
As usual
He’s let off
My daughter 
She complains
You never
Let us off
It’s difficult 
With his humour
What to do
If his friends mom
Wants to feed him
So his son will eat
I’m no longer worried
I know he’s responsible 
Won’t get in
Any trouble
If he does
His friends will come
And inform
And most importantly 
The vacation
Is over
It’s back to routine
The timetable
Monday to Thursday 
Straight from class
Friday to Saturday 
Extra time allowed
So now we are at peace
My son and me
We have to study.
But then that
Is another tale….
on a lighter note Uncategorized

My standup comedian

Shawn’s jokes are mostly  forgotten 
They’re spontaneous 
There’re original
They’re hilarious
But it’s that moment
And then they’re gone
Out of my memory
The other day
While studying 
Name two solids
I said
Hindi book
Maths book
I didn’t mind
I knew
He knew 
The right answer
We moved on
To liquids
I didn’t ask
About the gases
Is his favourite subject
It’s easy to be funny
What does a pigeon give birth to
I ask
I want to hear 
Young ones
He says eggs
There’s a picture 
Of a caterpillar 
And leaves 
in a container 
With a mesh
The question is 
What will happen 
After  a few days
There’s no water

His anwer
The leaves
They will die
Because they’ll be
Eaten up
Then there’s English
What is the plural of sky?
That’s wrong
It’s skies
No he says
It’s sky
There is only one sky
Atleast in his world 
Social studies

There are two sets
Of clay pots
The picture from 
His textbook

The answer 
The pots are made
For storing 
Different types of things 
His answer
The potter
He made some
And some small
I ask him why
He wrote this way
He says
If you were a potter
Wouldn’t you be bored
Of making the same pot
All over and over
I guess we too
Are meant to be different 
We were meant 
Not to be the same
Why would our potter
Make all children
The same
Over and Over
Some think he’s rude
Not knowing how
To speak to elders
I do try
To tell him
But I know
In his own way
He’s trying to be funny
In him mind
All are equal
His parents
His grandparents
His classmates
His teachers
His friends
His cousins
The beggar
Be it the laundryman
Or the garbage collector
They ring the doorbell 
And ask for him
He speaks to them
He makes them laugh
If not anything 
With his piggy snort
His anger
He cries
To get his way
Or for sympathy 
When hurt
He’s getting there
A joker
He wants to be
A fine one he will make
I think
His jokes are all forgotten
But now I’ll preserve them
In this blog
So he can laugh
At his own
When he grows

If he still
Wants to be
A standup comedian