CHAMKILA AND CHALU
In the park, under the Jamun tree, close to the cantonment fence,
Lived Chalu the langur and Chamkila the peacock; two friends.
Far and wide, Chamkila was known for his dancing skills,
Right from the tekris to the Sinhgad hills.
As for Chalu, no one liked his cunning intentions,
Even the humans mistrusted him and his affections!
One hot morning, when Chamkila lay in his green bed,
Chalu who was jealous of Chamkila’s beauty slyly said,
“I love your crown and I adore your feathers,
But your awful feet are something that bother,
My eyes and disturb my perfectionist heart,
You are not as handsome as my friend in the ghat.”
“I know, that’s why I cry my lungs out,
In the rain, I shake my feathers and shout,
To make God realize what blunder he has done,
His little carelessness and my beauty’s undone!”
said Chamkila, the peacock, with a sigh.
All whom he knew, knew that he did not lie.
“Well the time has come for a make-over,
Your feet will be as pretty as that clover,
Then you will be able to dance and sing,
With feet as beautiful as your wing!”
Chamkila heard Chalu’s words, filled with awe,
In his eyes friendship oozing, he gullibly saw.
Well! That was that, together they went,
To the dream makers who slyly lent
Their sympathetic ears to the peacock’s woes,
And started by fixing his ugly toes.
Chalu laughed and giggled and frowned
To see them work on the ground.
Chamkila liked what he saw, his feet glittered like gold.
“Wait till you see me dance!” he said looking bold.
The rains came crashing down, Chalu hid in the tree,
Champkila set out on a dancing spree.
But alas! The shiny and smooth feet stuck in the mud
And he fell, with a sharp resounding thud.
Chalu, peeping from the branches, had the last laugh,
To see Chamkila try in vain, he split in half.
Chamkila remembered and much too late!
Friends who flatter are not friends at any rate.
He wiped the tears from his eyes,
Realizing he had been trapped in a web of lies.
God had given him ugly feet but they had their beauty,
In the rain, he had danced with agility.
Now he knew, he had a heavy price to pay,
He had tampered with Nature and her way!
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
POLY AND ROLY
“I can teach you a trick or two,” said Roly the mongoose,
The little one Poly, looked at him as bewildered as a goose.
“When you see your enemy, stand firm and tall,
Attack head on, never worry about the fall!”
Roly said lifting his head high and broadening his chest,
Poly smiled and did just the same, for jest.
“Then you march and leave your adversary no choice,
Slay him with one fatal blow and then rejoice,”
Said Roly proudly baring his scissor like teeth.
The little fellow shivered, holding a branch for a sheath.
“When I walk, adders tremble,” Roly added with pride,
“They have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.”
The little Poly at that moment, a serpent saw.
He bared his teeth and showed his puny claw.
Roly, the old mongoose, for his life, ran away
Poly could see that it was no play!
He had only been adept at delivering an inspiring tirade.
The serpent sneered, “I am just a water snake,
Practice what you preach, you disgusting old rake.”
“Well, as for you,” he said looking at little Poly,
“Life is a learning experience, well within your reach,
People who deliver a speech, seldom teach!”
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
GEET AND PAHARI
Geet, the koel, in spring sang all day and all night,
For some months, the Jamun tree was quite a sight.
Everybody from Hadapsar to Poona cantonment,
Was seen vying to have an esteemed invitation sent.
“I’ve composed a new song,” she told Pahari the crow.
“Pray tell me how does it go?” he said bowing low.
She smiled and said, “Its about love and love alone.”
Her face sparkled and her beauteous eyes shone.
“It makes the world go round, it makes the bells ring,
It’s an emotion that makes your heart dance and sing!”
“That’s nonsense,” he sneered. “No one admires that,
It’s power and glory and money alone,” he angrily spat.
Geet timidly held her head between her wings.
She had no knowledge of these worldly things.
“Let me tell you about the world and the rat race,”
Boasted Pahari and Geet loved the poise and grace
Coupled with the confidence with which he spoke.
After all, he was no ordinary bloke.
He wrote the lines, she sang the verse,
The strange lyrics in a strange style made her terse.
That day the Jamun tree burst with many a guest,
All singularly attired and at their best.
She did not make head or tail of what she sang,
When the audience did not cheer, she felt a pang.
Her heart grew heavy and she felt a tear
Prick her frail cheeks and she saw them jeer
And mock her materialistic new strategy,
All the birds laughed at her, hysterically.
“Couldn’t you have written about love,” the judges said,
That moment Geet wished she were dead!
She should have believed in what she had believed.
“Love’s an emotion keen, our advice you should heed,
Stay away from all vice,” the judges declared,
“Next year, come for the competition prepared!”
MEETHU AND CHILLY
Meethi the parrot, loved the bountiful Jamun tree,
The juicy fruit filled her with an indescribable ecstasy.
Juggling frantically between work and home,
She instructed her son, Meethu, not to aimlessly, roam,
As Chilly the hawk, had been, in the vicinity, seen.
And his beak had a newly acquired glossy sheen!
He had a penchant to silently stalk and prey,
Those who threw caution to winds and went astray.
With this, she lifted her satchel and flew away.
Meethu in his books, did lurk but to temptation gave in,
Jumping and swirling in the air, he decided to take a spin.
Chilly indeed! A figment of his mother’s overworked imagination!
Just to keep him from having some mind-blowing fun!
The clear blue sky welcomed him with open arms,
The world beckoned him with all it’s divine charms.
He flew as high as he could, scaling dizzy heights
Swinging on rainbows and watching extraordinary sights.
Further and further away from the Jamun tree and the city lights.
Chilly sharpened his talons, as he watched Meethu’s antics
Finally that pompous Meethi, he would forever fix!
So much for her wisdom, couldn’t enlighten her own son,
He would have a feast, thanks to the unheeding little one.
Many a delicacy he had been deprived of, in the past,
Well! Finally the brief sabbatical wouldn’t forever last.
From a distance, Meethi watched Meethu’s perilous voyage
She was filled with anguish and a silent all consuming rage.
Why couldn’t these youngsters learn from another’s page!
She flew from pillar to post, summoning her fellow flock,
They all came, sparrows, pigeons and even the peacock.
In the face of a common enemy, forgetting their differences,
They saw the looming threat and came to their senses.
Together they flew, hand in hand, wing in wing,
To warn Meethu of the grave danger, impending .
Meethu heard the cacophony, stopped his roller-coaster ride,
Amazed to see the birds of different feather flock by his side,
He had failed to see the hawk hovering and circling wide.
Meethi took Meethu in her arms as they flew downwards,
The shrill cry of the hawk did not deter the birds,
“Fools learn from their own mistakes and wise from others,”
They all chorused as Meethu hugged his fellow brothers.
It had been a narrow escape, but a very valuable one,
He had learnt, responsibility always precedes having fun.
That night Meethu went to the wise owl, just as he got out of bed,
“All that was a muddle, is now clear in my head,
If you don’t listen to your elders, you are as good as dead.”
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
OLOO AND HISS
Oloo the owl loved the Jamun tree,
He considered his friends one big family.
When they fell asleep, he would rise,
For security and safety, it was a small price.
One day, Hiss the snake told him,
“Your situation in the tree is indeed grim,
You are old and wise, made for better things,
Not to comply to their fancies and whims.”
Oloo realized his dignity was at stake,
Wondered whether he should believe the snake?
“While you sleep, the others have the best,
You miss so much, when you rest.
To make matters worse they don’t even pay
I wonder, how they could, you so alienate?”
Oloo became a victim of avarice and greed.
“I am going to show these lowly creatures,
To be just, that will certainly ruffle their feathers.”
He decided and made a plan, very grand.
“They will have to follow the law of the land,
Everyone will be a sentinel and take turns,
Only a coward, his duty spurns.”
Much to Oloo’s chagrin, everyone reluctantly agreed,
One act of kindness, deserves another indeed!
Duties were fixed and the roster laid,
In the morning, Oloo groggy-eyed played.
At dusk, the birds returned, tired to the bone,
These days the Oloo’s eyes seldom shone.
The old sparrow stayed awake at night,
While the Oloo did his duties, sometimes in daylight.
This reversal, on his health, had taken it’s toll,
Seeing the chaos, the serpent slithered from his hole,
Made way towards the pigeon’s fledgling,
A good starter, for a prosperous beginning.
The Oloo half awake noticed the shiny skin
And raised an alarm, for all kith and kin.
His plan foiled, Hiss slithered away
Everybody stood dazed, in dismal array.
In daylight, it made no sense to remain awake,
Doing the duty at night, had been a peace of cake.
He realized his folly and begged forgiveness,
The moral, my dear readers can you guess?
We are all made in a different mould,
Identify your strength, watch God’s mystery unfold!
They had lived, all together, on that tree,
In rain and sunshine, it was destiny.
The birds had respected him, given him all,
His behaviour had been enough to appall
His conscience so, that he once again
Sat vigilantly at his post, his greed slain,
He decided to train a bird or two,
After all he was old and guards were few.
There was a feast, under the Jamun tree, that night,
The conniving snake had been killed by a kite
It was a reason enough to celebrate,
When wisdom comes, it’s never too late.
Love and happiness is something money cannot buy,
Live for others, just give it a try.
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
Kokila and Kakah
The geese cackled in the lake, noisily,
A nerve-wrecking unorchestrated symphony.
Kokila, the koel, eyed them with distaste,
Wondering, whether God had created them in haste!
The time was right and her eyes were bright,
Kakah and his dumb wife were nowhere in sight.
She stealthily flew to their cozy nest,
And placed her tiny egg along with the rest.
She felt as free as the human herd
Who had , of responsibility, never heard.
She sang with delight and mirth,
Considering herself a blessing , on earth.
Days passed and time rolled on by,
She often wondered about her baby, with a sigh.
Curiosity got the better of her
She dashed, to Kakah’a house, in a whir.
What she saw, rooted her to the spot,
She was tongue-tied, as if in a snare caught.
Kakah, proudly in his arms, rocked an infant
From two identical ones, quite different!
Singing in his hoarse voice, the sweetest lullaby,
To make his gifted one happy, he did try.
This made Kokila break down in wails and cries.
She confessed between sobs and sighs.
But Kakah refused to believe her pack of lies.
How dare she come to claim his special child!
The incorrigible bird, uncouth and wild!
Kokila was shattered, broken and dejected
The wise owl, heard it all and interjected.
The birds flocked, under the Jamun tree
Highly opinionated and offering advice for free.
Kokila fell on her knees, begging and pleading,
Kakah adamantly, refused to part with his fledgling.
The impasse grew stronger day by day,
Kakah, angrily said, “What kind of a mother is she?”
“With no sense of duty or responsibility.”
Kakah, relented, reconciled to his fate, and agreed
To part with his musical prodigy, in word and deed.
Years later, when Kokila’s daughter, Kuhu, did the same,
Resorted to a similar banal apology and excuses lame,
Kakah’s grey eyes understood as he listened impassively,
He only smiled and said, “It runs in the family!”
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
In the park, under the Jamun tree, close to the cantonment fence,
Lived Chalu the langur and Chamkila the peacock; two friends.
Far and wide, Chamkila was known for his dancing skills,
Right from the tekris to the Sinhgad hills.
As for Chalu, no one liked his cunning intentions,
Even the humans mistrusted him and his affections!
One hot morning, when Chamkila lay in his green bed,
Chalu who was jealous of Chamkila’s beauty slyly said,
“I love your crown and I adore your feathers,
But your awful feet are something that bother,
My eyes and disturb my perfectionist heart,
You are not as handsome as my friend in the ghat.”
“I know, that’s why I cry my lungs out,
In the rain, I shake my feathers and shout,
To make God realize what blunder he has done,
His little carelessness and my beauty’s undone!”
said Chamkila, the peacock, with a sigh.
All whom he knew, knew that he did not lie.
“Well the time has come for a make-over,
Your feet will be as pretty as that clover,
Then you will be able to dance and sing,
With feet as beautiful as your wing!”
Chamkila heard Chalu’s words, filled with awe,
In his eyes friendship oozing, he gullibly saw.
Well! That was that, together they went,
To the dream makers who slyly lent
Their sympathetic ears to the peacock’s woes,
And started by fixing his ugly toes.
Chalu laughed and giggled and frowned
To see them work on the ground.
Chamkila liked what he saw, his feet glittered like gold.
“Wait till you see me dance!” he said looking bold.
The rains came crashing down, Chalu hid in the tree,
Champkila set out on a dancing spree.
But alas! The shiny and smooth feet stuck in the mud
And he fell, with a sharp resounding thud.
Chalu, peeping from the branches, had the last laugh,
To see Chamkila try in vain, he split in half.
Chamkila remembered and much too late!
Friends who flatter are not friends at any rate.
He wiped the tears from his eyes,
Realizing he had been trapped in a web of lies.
God had given him ugly feet but they had their beauty,
In the rain, he had danced with agility.
Now he knew, he had a heavy price to pay,
He had tampered with Nature and her way!
- Chamkila – shiny and glittery
- Chalu- cunning and manipulative
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
POLY AND ROLY
“I can teach you a trick or two,” said Roly the mongoose,
The little one Poly, looked at him as bewildered as a goose.
“When you see your enemy, stand firm and tall,
Attack head on, never worry about the fall!”
Roly said lifting his head high and broadening his chest,
Poly smiled and did just the same, for jest.
“Then you march and leave your adversary no choice,
Slay him with one fatal blow and then rejoice,”
Said Roly proudly baring his scissor like teeth.
The little fellow shivered, holding a branch for a sheath.
“When I walk, adders tremble,” Roly added with pride,
“They have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.”
The little Poly at that moment, a serpent saw.
He bared his teeth and showed his puny claw.
Roly, the old mongoose, for his life, ran away
Poly could see that it was no play!
He had only been adept at delivering an inspiring tirade.
The serpent sneered, “I am just a water snake,
Practice what you preach, you disgusting old rake.”
“Well, as for you,” he said looking at little Poly,
“Life is a learning experience, well within your reach,
People who deliver a speech, seldom teach!”
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
GEET AND PAHARI
Geet, the koel, in spring sang all day and all night,
For some months, the Jamun tree was quite a sight.
Everybody from Hadapsar to Poona cantonment,
Was seen vying to have an esteemed invitation sent.
“I’ve composed a new song,” she told Pahari the crow.
“Pray tell me how does it go?” he said bowing low.
She smiled and said, “Its about love and love alone.”
Her face sparkled and her beauteous eyes shone.
“It makes the world go round, it makes the bells ring,
It’s an emotion that makes your heart dance and sing!”
“That’s nonsense,” he sneered. “No one admires that,
It’s power and glory and money alone,” he angrily spat.
Geet timidly held her head between her wings.
She had no knowledge of these worldly things.
“Let me tell you about the world and the rat race,”
Boasted Pahari and Geet loved the poise and grace
Coupled with the confidence with which he spoke.
After all, he was no ordinary bloke.
He wrote the lines, she sang the verse,
The strange lyrics in a strange style made her terse.
That day the Jamun tree burst with many a guest,
All singularly attired and at their best.
She did not make head or tail of what she sang,
When the audience did not cheer, she felt a pang.
Her heart grew heavy and she felt a tear
Prick her frail cheeks and she saw them jeer
And mock her materialistic new strategy,
All the birds laughed at her, hysterically.
“Couldn’t you have written about love,” the judges said,
That moment Geet wished she were dead!
She should have believed in what she had believed.
“Love’s an emotion keen, our advice you should heed,
Stay away from all vice,” the judges declared,
“Next year, come for the competition prepared!”
- Jamun - blackberry
- Geet - song
- Koel - nightingale
- Pahari - someone from the hills
MEETHU AND CHILLY
Meethi the parrot, loved the bountiful Jamun tree,
The juicy fruit filled her with an indescribable ecstasy.
Juggling frantically between work and home,
She instructed her son, Meethu, not to aimlessly, roam,
As Chilly the hawk, had been, in the vicinity, seen.
And his beak had a newly acquired glossy sheen!
He had a penchant to silently stalk and prey,
Those who threw caution to winds and went astray.
With this, she lifted her satchel and flew away.
Meethu in his books, did lurk but to temptation gave in,
Jumping and swirling in the air, he decided to take a spin.
Chilly indeed! A figment of his mother’s overworked imagination!
Just to keep him from having some mind-blowing fun!
The clear blue sky welcomed him with open arms,
The world beckoned him with all it’s divine charms.
He flew as high as he could, scaling dizzy heights
Swinging on rainbows and watching extraordinary sights.
Further and further away from the Jamun tree and the city lights.
Chilly sharpened his talons, as he watched Meethu’s antics
Finally that pompous Meethi, he would forever fix!
So much for her wisdom, couldn’t enlighten her own son,
He would have a feast, thanks to the unheeding little one.
Many a delicacy he had been deprived of, in the past,
Well! Finally the brief sabbatical wouldn’t forever last.
From a distance, Meethi watched Meethu’s perilous voyage
She was filled with anguish and a silent all consuming rage.
Why couldn’t these youngsters learn from another’s page!
She flew from pillar to post, summoning her fellow flock,
They all came, sparrows, pigeons and even the peacock.
In the face of a common enemy, forgetting their differences,
They saw the looming threat and came to their senses.
Together they flew, hand in hand, wing in wing,
To warn Meethu of the grave danger, impending .
Meethu heard the cacophony, stopped his roller-coaster ride,
Amazed to see the birds of different feather flock by his side,
He had failed to see the hawk hovering and circling wide.
Meethi took Meethu in her arms as they flew downwards,
The shrill cry of the hawk did not deter the birds,
“Fools learn from their own mistakes and wise from others,”
They all chorused as Meethu hugged his fellow brothers.
It had been a narrow escape, but a very valuable one,
He had learnt, responsibility always precedes having fun.
That night Meethu went to the wise owl, just as he got out of bed,
“All that was a muddle, is now clear in my head,
If you don’t listen to your elders, you are as good as dead.”
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
OLOO AND HISS
Oloo the owl loved the Jamun tree,
He considered his friends one big family.
When they fell asleep, he would rise,
For security and safety, it was a small price.
One day, Hiss the snake told him,
“Your situation in the tree is indeed grim,
You are old and wise, made for better things,
Not to comply to their fancies and whims.”
Oloo realized his dignity was at stake,
Wondered whether he should believe the snake?
“While you sleep, the others have the best,
You miss so much, when you rest.
To make matters worse they don’t even pay
I wonder, how they could, you so alienate?”
Oloo became a victim of avarice and greed.
“I am going to show these lowly creatures,
To be just, that will certainly ruffle their feathers.”
He decided and made a plan, very grand.
“They will have to follow the law of the land,
Everyone will be a sentinel and take turns,
Only a coward, his duty spurns.”
Much to Oloo’s chagrin, everyone reluctantly agreed,
One act of kindness, deserves another indeed!
Duties were fixed and the roster laid,
In the morning, Oloo groggy-eyed played.
At dusk, the birds returned, tired to the bone,
These days the Oloo’s eyes seldom shone.
The old sparrow stayed awake at night,
While the Oloo did his duties, sometimes in daylight.
This reversal, on his health, had taken it’s toll,
Seeing the chaos, the serpent slithered from his hole,
Made way towards the pigeon’s fledgling,
A good starter, for a prosperous beginning.
The Oloo half awake noticed the shiny skin
And raised an alarm, for all kith and kin.
His plan foiled, Hiss slithered away
Everybody stood dazed, in dismal array.
In daylight, it made no sense to remain awake,
Doing the duty at night, had been a peace of cake.
He realized his folly and begged forgiveness,
The moral, my dear readers can you guess?
We are all made in a different mould,
Identify your strength, watch God’s mystery unfold!
They had lived, all together, on that tree,
In rain and sunshine, it was destiny.
The birds had respected him, given him all,
His behaviour had been enough to appall
His conscience so, that he once again
Sat vigilantly at his post, his greed slain,
He decided to train a bird or two,
After all he was old and guards were few.
There was a feast, under the Jamun tree, that night,
The conniving snake had been killed by a kite
It was a reason enough to celebrate,
When wisdom comes, it’s never too late.
Love and happiness is something money cannot buy,
Live for others, just give it a try.
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.
Kokila and Kakah
The geese cackled in the lake, noisily,
A nerve-wrecking unorchestrated symphony.
Kokila, the koel, eyed them with distaste,
Wondering, whether God had created them in haste!
The time was right and her eyes were bright,
Kakah and his dumb wife were nowhere in sight.
She stealthily flew to their cozy nest,
And placed her tiny egg along with the rest.
She felt as free as the human herd
Who had , of responsibility, never heard.
She sang with delight and mirth,
Considering herself a blessing , on earth.
Days passed and time rolled on by,
She often wondered about her baby, with a sigh.
Curiosity got the better of her
She dashed, to Kakah’a house, in a whir.
What she saw, rooted her to the spot,
She was tongue-tied, as if in a snare caught.
Kakah, proudly in his arms, rocked an infant
From two identical ones, quite different!
Singing in his hoarse voice, the sweetest lullaby,
To make his gifted one happy, he did try.
This made Kokila break down in wails and cries.
She confessed between sobs and sighs.
But Kakah refused to believe her pack of lies.
How dare she come to claim his special child!
The incorrigible bird, uncouth and wild!
Kokila was shattered, broken and dejected
The wise owl, heard it all and interjected.
The birds flocked, under the Jamun tree
Highly opinionated and offering advice for free.
Kokila fell on her knees, begging and pleading,
Kakah adamantly, refused to part with his fledgling.
The impasse grew stronger day by day,
Kakah, angrily said, “What kind of a mother is she?”
“With no sense of duty or responsibility.”
Kakah, relented, reconciled to his fate, and agreed
To part with his musical prodigy, in word and deed.
Years later, when Kokila’s daughter, Kuhu, did the same,
Resorted to a similar banal apology and excuses lame,
Kakah’s grey eyes understood as he listened impassively,
He only smiled and said, “It runs in the family!”
© Jaspreet Mann. Under the Jamun tree. All Rights Reserved.