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The Sagacious Woody

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Behold! The old beardy hunches over his pot – He licks up, in broad daylight, his damp woods stewed hot! He shakes his head, keeps muttering hymns like a mage – From his ways, you would think he’s no less than a sage! Blabbers all day long – you’d wonder from where they stem – “The sky’s full of cobwebs, so woods have holes in them.” He raises his bald head and beads of sweat run down, “Nobody can fathom its gravity –” he’d frown, “These foolish dunderheads, to such matters purblind, Don’t seem to take in – always wrangling in their mind. Which wood has more essence – blind to facts such simple – Why on eleventh lunar days, woods get dimple.” Scribbled around all o’er, in fact, is his account Of cracked woods and notched woods – he loses not a count! Which hole tastes delicious, and which hole’s insipid, Which crack gives off fragrance, and which one smells horrid. Clunk! Clank! Clackety-rattle! He knocks wood with wood, And says, “I know which wood in what way gets subdued. Paying a...
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Horrible Harmony

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Comes the summer, we hear the hummer,  Vishmalochan Sharma – The daunting song is haunting long from Delhi down to Burma. With dogged might, sings day and night, he doesn't seem to tire; The people are muddled, in a chaos befuddled – all run haywire. Helter-skelter all around, the people fidget and bleed, “We soon gonna die,” the people sigh, “STOP YOUR SONG,” they plead. Hustle-bustle astray cattle turn turtle by the roadside, Vishmalochan , indifferent, sings hell-bent with all his pride. Strong are the waves – no one saves the animals which turn turtle; Look and hark! The madman stark – curses aloud the hurtle. Fishes, so surprising, at tranquil, are not rising to the top, While the trees are not at ease, a whole family roots drop. Poor bird in flapping flight, swings in fright, in mid-sky flies sickly, People urge, on death’s verge, “We will die – Stop singing quickly!” What a blunder! The skies thunder – while the mansions crack; Vishmalochan merry, sings al...
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Shack of the Hag

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With a huffed mouth full of puffed rice – smiling, The old hag lives in a shakey shack piling. Inky-stinky mats, kinky-curly hair, Hunch on the back and a bunch o' dusty glare. Gum betwixt walls, affixed by needles of knit— Sewed up house with threads, glued up with her spit. Lean on the wall, the house might fall and crash;  Cough with a rack — shakes up the shack in a flash! ‘Squonk’ calls the hawker, and ‘honk’ goes the cart— Framework trembles, ’n’ house dissembles apart! Inclined are the rooms, you'll find ’em empty, As you sweep, chunks of wood heap in plenty. Pours down the sky, hangs down then her drenched dome, With sticks the crone, sticks up alone her home.  All day repair, with extra care and knack— Rickety old hag and her ramshackle shack. (Bengali original: Burir Bari) Translated by Arkajyoti Banerjee বুড়ীর বাড়ী (Burir Bari) গালভরা হাসিমুখে চালভাজা মুড়ি, ঝুরঝুরে প'ড়ো ঘরে থুর্‌থুরে বুড়ী ৷ কাঁথাভরা ঝুলকালি, মাথাভরা ধুলো, মিট্‌মিটে ঘো...
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The Tickling Old Man

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Across the seven seas, go wherever you like you can,  But beware! Never ever approach the tickling old man. A terrible old man – dare not step into his hut – He’ll tickle you on and on till rips apart your gut. No one knows where he stays, in which land so eerie, Once he finds you alone, he’ll read you out a story. So strange his tales are, God knows from which days of yore, They have not the least fun, but they’d make one feel sore. Those tales have no head or tail – total gibberish! Still it is must to laugh – that too against your wish. If it is just a story, one can still bear and endure, But he tickles you with a long feather, and that’s for sure. Keeps on blabbering, “Ho! Ho! Ho! William’s aunt Always sold pumpkins, yams, duck eggs and linseed plant. The eggs were long, the pumpkins but crooked and bent, On the yams were sketched designs in colourful paint. The aunt, in a faint voice, hummed and sang the whole day, Meow-meow, coo-c...
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The Strongman

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Playfully, Shastthicharan juggles elephants in lilt, Weighing nineteen maunds exact, as strong as he’s iron built. One day with bamboo stick, a goon struck him with all his woe – Split in pieces that stick like chalk, just hitting his elbow. ’Twas the other day, while walking on road, lost in some thought, A massive brick from top crashed o’er his head with warning not. Just then on hitting his head, the brick in a short moment, Crumbled into dust, while Shastthi smiling away he went, When barks out Shastthi , shake buildings and mansions in hurtle, When from his mouth, he blows wind out, bullock carts turn turtle, Tears thick slabs of wood – as they were a paper – in a flash; Pours himself hundred barrels of water – bathes in a splash! For breakfast, has pistachio nuts – three crates – weighed in beam, In the end, slurps off fourteen pitchers of yoghurt and cream. At lunch time, meals come in rows and queues in vessels immersed, Iced juices – at least nineteen...
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Catching the Thief

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What a shame – Disgraceful! Such terrible crimes befall, Beyond words, nowadays, outrageous thefts appal. Just as I take a nap, sharp before the coffee break, Immensely reduces my food, before I’m awake. Someone devours it everyday – who I wonder, And yesterday what happened went beyond a plunder! Fried cutlets, five, three breads – buttered’n’toasted, Two large wafers, a packet of almonds roasted, And there were more – French fries and mayonnaise plenty – But to my horror, I woke up and found my plate was empty! And so today I’m furious, filled with contempt and dislike, Suffering for all these days, now it’s time to strike! And hence all day long, I stand alert in cautious mood, I’ll watch out and catch ’em who come to steal my food. Whether you’re Tom, Dick or Harry I don’t care – Whoever you are, I tell you – Stop right there. Of struggles and fights, without the least fear or dread, Whoever I find, at once – I’ll slice off their head! And therefore, I stand hi...
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Pumpkin-Plumpkin

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Have a look at this freaky peculiar creature, You've never learnt or been taught by any teacher - Don't think I am joking, really, I am serious... If you don't obey my words, he'll just get furious! Pumpkin-Plumpkin (If) Pumpkin-Plumpkin dances – Never approach the stables by any chances, Don’t look left or right and don’t take backward glances; Hang with all four legs from Ruckus-radish branches! (If) Pumpkin-Plumpkin cries – Beware! Never sit on rooftops under the skies; Lie prone in tree-houses, blankets shoulder to thighs, Sing ‘Radhe Krishna Radhe’ in deafening sighs! (If) Pumpkin-Plumpkin laughs – Stand on one leg by kitchen, with no stick or staffs; Speak Persian in whispers, muffled by breath in halves; Fasting all three meals, lie on grass like astray calves! (If) Pumpkin-Plumpkin runs – Make sure you all clamber up the windows at once; Hookah water mixed with rouge, smear lips’n’cheeks in tons; And dare ...
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Fracas Frenzied

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That's our crazy Jagai , who comes hither daily, Mumbling to himself, smiling a smile so gaily. While walking, stops at sudden, shaken up with start, Leaps then from left to right with a jolt – in a dart! Steamed up in frenzy, rolled up sleeves, clenched fists annoyed; ‘ Aiyoo !’ he screams, like frantic bashes at the void. Yells out loud, “Set a trap? Don’t think Jagai will lure – Seven Huns ’gainst one Jagai , he’ll still fight for sure.”   Fumed up like frantic, leaping like the jumping jack, One moment chases front, next moment to the back. In aimless despair, flings umbrella in air – Fling! Eyes are shut, maddened amok – like motors spinning. In a leap wired, becomes tired, perspires in defeat, Drops with a thud – prostrate on mud – stretched hands and feet. Throws hand and feet, eyes glazed – shouts in terrible squall, “Passed away Jagai , struck hard by the cannonball!”   Soon then fidgeted awhile in frenzied illness, Original sket...
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