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To baby Shasta, my grand daughter

Your dad a good swimmer, so what?

Dad an ace rower, but you got 

The warmth for water from thatha 

No doubt in that,  my cute Shasta!

What a rush in the sky, my moon!

When embarks the grand monsoon! 

Dense dark clouds with heavy sounds

Like tuskers in thousands 

Push and dash out in great hurry

Going where and why, my worry, 

Eyes opened, near a window I stood

Stunned like you, my kid. 

And when the pachyderms 

Poured through their trunks

Gallons and gallons of water,

I used to watch clapping hands 

What a thrill, my grand daughter! 

Your parents’ passion for ocean and sky 

Woods and hills will take you high

Remember then my love for Nature

And compassion for every creature. 

That made your thatha dance in rounds 

Ignoring his inner wounds.

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Locks and keys

Locks separated from their keys

And keys separated from their locks

Reminds me

Men separated from their women

And women separated from their men.

I feel sad and preserve this junk.

Junk? 

Comes Abdullah with a push cart

‘ThAlam repair, thAlam repair!’

I gave him a lock, he made the key 

The lock is happy, the key is happy.

But Abdullah is not Allah

And he can repair only ‘thAlam’