2/3rd of an ode to Chandana

For one last glimpse, 

oh goddess of fire — 

the same burnt amber 

glowing out of thee

though burns the body, 

sets his soul free. 

The mortal arises 

from his funeral pyre!

But could He, the pure, 

remain in high alter 

when the orange blossoms 

at his temple flare 

Alas! the divine himself 

lost in praise ’n prayer 

The awe of his self-creation 

makes him falter.

The Ducati Boy

Once upon a time in the bay
out goes a Ducati boy to play.

Taking life out for a spin
this spirited trailblazer
drawn to basic pleasure,
posts a 32-all-out grin.

Thinks that more is better,
draws three endowed chicks
whilst the fourth sadly clicks.
bubble-sorting big and bigger,
keeps the biggest 'dil ke paas'.
After such frolic edutainment
justifies act via Old Testament!
wishing for his b'day 'una mas'.

Narcissist? no way, just a giver!
Scope he gives them for posing,
pulling them out from selling
to share his joy for a viral fever.

Once upon a time in the bay
out goes a Ducati boy to play.