For Aaki II

This came to me early in the morning today..

There once was a girl called Aa-ki

Whose spirit was remarkably free

She jived with the stars

And hopped down to Mars

Whenever she fancied a pee

Poetic genius, what can I say?

Da-pers and Mom-pers

(I know this is a rerun, but some of my fathers friends wanted to see these.)

Da-pers

As cool as my mom is in making no sense and dabbling in the absurd, my father is even better. Here are a select few incidents from a very vast selection.

• “Has the government really made that many mistakes?” a reporter from the HT asked my dad during an interview.”Yes, in this act alone they have made several huge bloomers. You wouldn’t believe some of the bloomers they’ve made! And they don’t even realize they’ve made these bloomers!” my dad responded passionately.
• At an international conference my dad was attending with my mom, an elderly gentleman stepped forward and introduced himself to my dad.”Hello, I'm Mr. Black” he said politely”Hello Mr. Black I'm… Errr. Uma what the heck is my name?” my father responded, suave and in control as always.
• My father was flying through Amsterdam, and discovered that all the cabin air had chapped his lips, so when he sat in the lounge, he pulled out a chap stick. He proceeded to apply it liberally to his lips and then sat back and waited for it to be absorbed. Five minutes later he was in the loo vigorously rubbing lips with a towel to get the glue of them. Yes that’s right, my father glue-sticked his lips together.
• My father was an avid camper in his youth, back when they wiped their bum on leaves after a dump. So my dad gets up early in the hills around Shimla, and finds a nice secluded spot to himself. Five minutes later he’s all set to leave and grasps at a promising clump of leaves. They’re soft and springy and make excellent impromptu toilet paper. Except for one small detail. Those leaves are actually stinging nettle. My mother tells me he couldn’t cross his legs for a week.

Mom-pers

• My mother and I were visiting the local vet, with our notoriously fussy dog Spin. Spin is a connoisseur of fine dog biscuits, and does not try new types easily. My mother was worried that the biscuits the vet was recommending would all go to waste, and was determined to get a quality guarantee.“You must have tried these Dr.,” she asked him innocently, “do they taste good?”
• (Like all Indians, my mom loves to make random words rhyme. Unfortunately, she doesnt think them out first) We were in a department store, and my mom wanted to buy a hideous set of tea cups. I told her just how ugly I thought they were, and in a fit of outraged laughter, infront of about 15 salesmen and hundreds of other customer, she pointed at me and shouted "Meanis Penis".
• My father and mother were having dinner in a fancy restaurant, and the waiter offered my parents some very hot sauce. My mother eagerly sprayed it all over her food, but my father, being more cautious, declined. My mother was delighted by the apparent superiority of the female race, and, loudly, called my dad a "Wussy Pussy"
  
  

The New Look

I will now try to not change skins for at least five minutes.

A song of sixpence..

"hmmmmmmmmm hmmm hmmm....."

A tuneless hum that permeates my soul. Soft background noise that plays to everything I have ever done. Lead weight that hangs around my neck. The beating heart beneath the floor board even.

Can you hear it?

Im almost sure that everyone I know and everyone I meet for the first time, the last time, can all hear it. The soft strains of tuneless humming. I shake my head to sway the sound and the people think I disagree, but I dont. And the sound just never stops humming.

But there was this one time, or two or three times, when the humming made sense. When I could hear the little girl that sang that song, no that nursery rhyme, in a clear, pure voice that was untouched. The song didnt hum in her mind.

Like it does in mine.

There was a moment you know. A moment when that little girl stopped being a child that could sing a rhyme in innocence. Her body stayed young and childlike, and that was her crime. She was no longer untouched and pure. She couldnt sing anymore.

I couldnt sing anymore.

And the humming began. It never stops and I dont think it ever will. There is no safe place, where the sound wont find you.
I will live with those echoes forever.