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“Today you help me knead the dough, hubby dear,
For I need to go to a place quite near.
So here then is the flour,
Take care, spill not on the floor.”

Hubby dear got busy with the flour,
Knew otherwise would be shown the door.
So the flour he took, and added plenty water;
But alas, it was more than the flour could cater.

When he added more flour, he needed more water;
Then more flour, still more water; went on like this… till a long later,
He finally saw with a satisfied glow,
That it was ready, the dough.

Wifey came home and let out a shriek,
For the dough it had reached the roof peak;
And hubby dear was invisible, though at the door;
Grinning silly and entombed in flour.

Last words he heard after getting knocked down,
“The dough was to be for us dear, not the whole town.”


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As he lay there, wallowing in stale rum and self-pity, know not how long;
The red-eyed monster sprang up suddenly from the brimming liquor;
Gulping down a glass of liquid fire, he roared, “Now! Shoot her now!”
“She deserves no pity- who has let you down so badly.”

Drowning in rum, he attempted to raise his head,
Raising placatory hands to his personal devil,
“Now, now, let us not go there, so afar!
Remember, she used to be my cynosure till week last,
It’s just a pity that she was charmed by someone else.”

“Beware if you show any mercy to that unfaithful wretch!”
Growled the beast, spitting out shards of glass in disgust and adding,
“Be a man, take the sharpest knife and plunge it in her heartless heart.”

He cried out loud and pleaded with folded hands,
“No, no, can’t ever do that, please for Heaven’s sake, go away.”
“Then you leave me with no other option,” sighed the monster,
Stabbing him straight through the heart.

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Loveliness is not all about physical beauty,
It is also
A smile shimmering through tear- stained eyes,
A widening grin ironing out an elder's wrinkles,
A mother's joy seeing her child eating well,
A couple embracing joyfully in reunion,
A calf jumping about in joy around mother cow,
And many more...


Seeing her eyes glow in excitement,
Obviously though she has it all wrong,
I rush to grab the correction opportunity,

Till I have another look at the gleam in her eyes.

Hell, I think, let me be wrong a hundred times over,
If only to preserve that glorious joy,

Rather than prove her wrong
And watch her enthusiasm wither.