When I rhyme, this is what happens

No doubt each kid has been fed a steady diet of standard nursery rhymes (and strangely, all with the same tune), I probably must have regurgitated my rhyme-y knowledge from then. I don’t know what would explain my lack of rhyme now.

It doesn’t have a scheme, it doesn’t have a composition and sometimes, one line has too many words.

It stumbles into speculative poetry sometimes; I’ve hung out with the lyric and prose versions too.

This is what happened when I badly wanted to rhyme. (what’s one without the other, eh?)




The Doggie Rhyme

I’m man’s best friend

And sometimes a fiend

They make me what they want

And as they please

They gimme ponytails,

Some pigtails and a cookie

And I know that doesn’t even rhyme

I also follow human trails

Into casinos and


I’m the man with the tail

My puppy eyes never fail

The girls go ‘oh baby!’ and gaga over me

I have nice shiny fur

And hey I don’t hate what purrs

Because they have nice shiny fur too

They’ve even got a tail

And a conquerist plan that might fail

But who cares so long as I get a cookie!

I only wanted to write moar

So my doggy wings could soar

And I get a cookie again. Woof.

Do I get a bone for this?


Of pregnancy and presentations

Pregnancies are barely written about. Have you ever noticed?

Parenthood is the pivot of adult life for most people yet somehow, the scene of giving birth is shushed in the written and the seen. I’m only eighteen and nine months old and no, I do not know how close you can grow to the life which sprouts inside you. Not everyone stuffs a pillow inside their shirts to see what a bloated tummy would look like. Not everyone goes out maternity-wear shopping.

Conception is a human miracle: a functional human body develops and grows as your mood swings do; it eats the same chocolate chip ice cream you do, breathing that same O2 your lungs play pass-the-parcel with.

So when I came across an article on the interwebz that pointed out that barely any writers gave birth and renewal the space it occupies in our lives, I decided to try my hands on one.

Pain surged in her tender, virgin skin. As she forced another debilitating push, her neck was drained of blood; it gushed out onto the bed in lumps and rushes.

‘No crowning’, the nurse dictated to a masked assistant, pulling up the stained green sheet for a cold observation.

The world spun out of dimension as she succumbed to the hell of birth and renewal; one which she had awaited much eagerly all nine months and two weeks. The pregnancy guide did say something about false pains. Waves of neurotic displeasure wrecked her system. For once, she was cursing Jon. He was a man, he could bear no child. It is easy to tell me to breathe but try doing it when the baby is ready to crawl up your windpipe than go down your orifice!

Like tampons, pregnancy is something mankind will never truly comprehend. With that thought, she felt at peace. Elma felt lazy. As lazy as her Sundays used to be back in the tenth grade; Harry Potter and Snape and Voldemort and Hermione and Moaning Myrtle… And then, there was the silence. Like there always had been.

PS. What he took, The Rumpus

Presentations? Ah, well. People get them wrong all the time. Heck, I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed watching a presentation. Keep looking.

Koopy smites back at bad presentations!

Meanwhile, drool.

Any delegates wishing to speak?

The concept of a content buffer per se ceases to exist for me. Six days of college whooshed past, and so did four days of council. What council?

Say hello to Sri Lanka.

Delegates wishing to speak?

Model United Nations have caught up late in my part of the world, but boy are they on fire. They’re simulations of the actual
United Nations conferences held in Geneva; if you do not find that kickass enough, try being called the ‘delegate of Sri Lanka’ by 36 people and three others who call themselves the Executive Board.

We had gathered in the city of pearls, complete with  Irani chai & Osmania biscuits and over a good four days, seven councils and delegates representing various countries from all over the globe came together to discuss and debate over agendas which concern the international community.

I signed up for a special UN committee called GA IV SPECPOL with the situation in Kashmir being the agenda for debate and discussion.

Over the decades, political intricacies aside, the Kashmir dispute has burgeoned to epidemic levels and clearly threatens the delicate balance that hangs by spider web in South Asia and world over. Three wars have been fought, people have been killed, they have migrated and rebelled against curfews. They have hurled stones in the dark right back at whatever it is that will never let them live in peace, or even see their homes again.

It is a strategic location and a matter of pride of India; Pakistan cries foul over its accession even 6 decades and a half later. Countless UN sessions and observer groups have tried to kickstart flailing peace initiatives between countries, yet one way or the other, a solution never made it till the end.

When you are preparing for a topic of debate that hasn’t been resolved in the UN for so long, you know you’re in for a ride. I wintnessed countries seep out of character, lambasting their foreign policies at times, hesitating to speak to others.

Chaitanya Bharathi Institute of Technology organized the international MUN at Mahindra Satyam, or MSAT (like they call it). They’ve got a pretty slick AV system in their main hall where cameras automatically focus on you as you switch on your mike to speak. Ooh, limelight.

The first day of session was unusually quiet, except for the delegate of India who emphasized on Kashmir being very much an integral part of the country and refused to accept any debate over the matter. (The delegate of PRC even claimed to have absolutely no interest in Kashmir: she was a first time MUN-ner and definitely gave me quite the conversation starter. Heck, a meek China just made things more interesting!)

What followed was another three nights spent reading up on various aspects and factors surrounding the brouhaha and connecting it to Sri Lanka, sampling South Indian cuisine and exploring the ways of the city when we weren’t meeting new people.

These four days, we lived like we never had. We debated like it’d be the last time we’d be allowed to. We question, proposed, approved, disapproved, ate and laughed like you should when you do not make sense at all.

Hyding 🙂

My first MUN gave me my first train journey in seven years, a whole lot of new friends and the opportunity to debate with some of the country’s best mun-ners. It saw me try Hyderabadi biryani for the first time and weave through Banjara Hills. There were days we’d plan our outings to make sure we had all bases covered, though sadly, Char Minar did not happen.

So, did I win anything? Sadly, nope. Not because I did not speak, but because the council’s chair was of the opinion that there was absolutely no content to have judged the debate on… And bam. The sole criterion for judgement ended up being working papers. That left me discouraged and sour but hey, I saw where I was failing. [See The Year Of Speaking Project]

I came back a happier, chiller version of me (and sleep deprivation that refuses to shake away). So while you checked out my blog and saw nothing majorly new, this is what I’d been upto.

When in doubt, eat.

Le Chicken Biryani (Hello vegetarianism. I did not help myself to any.)