Ambling through the greens

Stretches by the intense verdant landscape,
Silently praying while they on mud lands they drape.
Ever winding, ever twisting and motherly heed they do possess,
Ambling through the greens, never complaining of the brutalities mortal profess!

The pic was taken on Canterbury Street!

Tutu!

Wind stood still, pondering which direction to would suit best,
Crescent moon enmeshed among the cajoling cloud, away from the worldly unrest.

Green Lion’s Den haven in this quibbling world of common herd,
Tutu, Chinese namesake for Modak, caressed by tastebuds with flavours unheard.

Walk was long, lonesome in swarm and yet tranquil,
Crazy night dotted democratic misgivings and walk so long that it required a painkilling pill!

Pug Marks...

Away from the Dubai deserts and my Mumbai’s shore,
Verdant Singapore beseeches me caressingly in to her core. :-)
Rapture and gusto score my every stroll,
Lion Kingdom has engraved its pug marks on my soul.

Saga till eternity…Mumbai my city!

Queues anticipate every progress, Whiff iniquitous hails at every corner,
Pot-bellied hawaldars and roads inundated with revamp forever!
Taxis of yellow-black hue and creaking body yet run with alacrity,
Saga till eternity…Mumbai my city!

Streams of Red that flurry through that we discern is the BEST,
Worms on track transfer millions at no extraordinary behest.
Dabba wala or the vada pav stall, flavor buds shall never cease marveling in this city,
Saga till eternity…Mumbai my city!

I can go on...but would like to salute the the spirit of the city I call home!

Rendezvous with Gomati

Muddled mind and ruminating heart it was en route airport,
Desert’s eventual call as the grains bid farewell ere I did deport!
Refulgent in an afternoon glaze, reveled my Gomati,
After much ado, thuddd it did at a bizarre yet decipherable city I call home and will till eternity!

Gomati is the name of the flight I traveled in..

Happy Birthday Gundeeeeee!

Fountains tip-toed in the hush of the crescent moon,
Night was young and the silence we could hear croon!

A face daubed with cream on occasion so extraordinary,
A smile she professed that could stop hundred battleships, laden with armory.

Topped the night so bewildering with a piping hot tea,
Grains of sand could not but sing ‘Happy Birthday Gundeeeeee’!