“Taste of Haste”

Mum has made oatmeal

For breakfast today.

I “think” we might have

Oatmeal-curry the next day.

She mixes concoctions,

And bangs her spoons

Then puts them in her mouth

And tastefully swoons.

A dash of this dried mint

That was saved last year,

A pinch of this ginger paste…

That expired last September.

Marvelous curries,

That boast of haste

Still she manages to conquer taste!





Shards of pain,

Envelope my frame,

Throbbing with feelings,

That I had tried to tame.


“The Recommendation Letter”

A few words exchanged,

On the phone,

Avalanching the memories,

Of years long gone.

“Would you come only to pick,

Her recommendation letter, only?”

Long silence.

My heart quivered.

My feet tried to grasp the earth.


Two days later,

As I hailed my heavy frame,

His eyes met mine in the waiting room.

“Kaisi ho?” he asked.

As I looked down with shame.

“Praised be the Lord.”

For my heart was in a fleeting second,

In the same place, again.

Beating and pounding,

With rejection spelled out,

In bleeding veins.


“Can I offer you some coffee or tea?”

He mumbled.

I wondered if it was earnestly.

“JazakAllah!” I sighed as my head shook.

“May I…? The letter…”

He handed me the letter ,gingerly.

And I swiftly took.


I headed towards the door.

Downstairs on the ground floor,

Of the hospital ,

That I had visited


I broke down and cried.

The armour crumbled.

Just like cookie crumbs.

I was back in the same place.

That reduced me to feel

Aftermath of rejection,

Years gone by.