A red carpet story

A red carpet story 

A million lights flash

To loud thunderous applause 

A green earth sashays 

--shubha 

The Miracle cure

The Miracle cure

Did you know Kanan 's old grandpa is sick

The rumor, traveled the village quick

And the village gathered to commiserate 

The young daughter-in-law,educate

It is very sad , the end is nigh

In hushed whispers, they did sigh

Advised,to put him on a diet of thin rice gruel

To ask his body to digest anymore would be cruel

Each passing day poor Thatha* remained unwell

Villagers shook their heads, waited for the funeral

Until the schoolmaster's son returned  to everyone's delight

A doctor, the village's future bright

Who knew that little imp, the naughtiest in the crowd,

Would one day,make the village proud

Off he went to see Kanan, his old friend, heard the tale

Of his ailing grandpa, so sick,so frail

Moved by the sight of a once jolly man, broken, bent

Asked to be left alone,with his patient

Came out grave, stern, face creased with care

There is still hope, he did declare

The treatment is complicated, for it's efficacy

I must insist on it's completely privacy

Every morning, the young doctor arrived as norm

A neatly wrapped newspaper package under his arm

By and by,to the surprise of all

Thatha recovered with each doctor's call

Until one day , to the exclamation of all and sundry

He sat up and declared he was very hungry

The village came together to celebrate 

The young doctor, on this miracle cure, felicitate

Asked the headman his reverent best

Would the doctor,kindly share his secret ?

The doctor seemed abashed , amused too

Said it was no miracle cure, he knew

Old man was tired of the gruel diet, he led

Begged for some idlis instead

The idlis I bought him from the nearby store

Are the reason, for his own cure

The old man chuckled , and said

No my son, it was your kindness, instead

And when all else fails , kindness is the miracle cure

That stems by grace, from hearts pure.

--shubha 

Watermelon summers

Watermelon summers


On hot, sticky afternoons

Meet me with a smile

Let your ice-cold juice trickle

Down my parched throat

As you melt in my mouth

With a satisfying crunch

Comfort of memories

Of many childhood summers

Held together in a triangular slice

Of sweet,juicy watermelon




--shubha