Castles in the air - they are so easy to take refuge in. And so easy to build, too.

आम्हां घरी धन शब्दांचीच रत्नें | शब्दांचीच शस्त्रें यत्न करुं ||
शब्द चि आमुच्या जीवांचे जीवन | शब्दें वांटूं धन जनलोकां ||
तुका म्हणे पाहा शब्द चि हा देव | शब्द चि गौरव पूजा करुं ||
- abhang of Tukaram Wolhoba Ambile of Dehu

There's No Freedom Like That of a Child's Imagination

கடலுக்கு உண்டு கற்பனைக்கு இல்லை கட்டுப்பாடு

Sunday, October 04, 2009

Khopoli/Kasara Slow

There was an Old Man of CST
Who shunned the trains and BEST.
He travelled secretly,
And very quietly -
That pantherine old man of CST.


There was an Old Woman of Masjid
Whose Zodiac was rather cuspid.
Part Sagittarian,
Part vegetarian -
That amphibian Old Woman of Masjid.

There was an Old Man of Sandhurst Road
To whom gratitude is at first owed -
For he and his ratsnake
The city pest-free make -
That ophidian Old Man of Sandhurst Road.

There was an Old Man of Byculla
Who found a celestial nebula.
He watched many a night
Till he found it all right -
That owlish Old Man of Byculla.


There was a Young Man of Chinchpokli
Whose staple diet was dal-dhokli.
Much wealth he would donate
To the unfortunate -
That lion-hearted Young Man of Chinchpokli.

There was an Old Man of Currey Road
Who possessed a rare and furry toad.
He fed it on fennel
And built it a kennel -
That batrachian Old Man of Currey Road.

There was a Young Lady of Parel
Who resolved to travel to Panvel.
But thirty days after
She's not gone much further -
That sluggish Young Lady of Parel.

There was an Old Woman of Dadar
Who thought she descended from Babar.
She kept sixteen porters
And roared at her daughters -
That leonine woman of Dadar.


There was a lady of Matunga
Whose battle-cry was 'Cowabunga!'
She'd butt conversations
And cite reservations -
That caprine Lady of Matunga.

There was a Gentleman of Sion
Who needed a shoulder to cry on.
When could not find one
He leaned on his son -
That pigeon-hearted Gentleman of Sion.

There was a Young lady of Kurla
Who used obscure words like mandorla.
She'd prattle on and on
Till the sun was long gone -
That parroty Young Lady of Kurla.


There was a Man of Vidyavihar
Who thought he was the Russian czar.
He wore a bearskin hat
And imported seal fat -
That ursine Man of Vidyavihar.

There was an Old Man of Ghatkopar
Who was considered a no-hoper.
He would run for cover
At the first rain-shower -
That sheepish Old Man of Ghatkopar.


There was an Old Man of Vikhroli
Whose conduct was considered lowly
He wore seven gold chains
But was bereft of brains -
That peacocky Old Man of Vikhroli.

There was an Old Man of Kanjur Marg
Whom his colleagues deemed to be a narg*.
Opportunistic
And capitalistic -
That vulturous Old Man of Kanjur Marg.

There was an Old Woman of Bhandup
Whose principles never let her stoop.
She made herself a gown
Of soft feathery down -
That goosy Old Woman of Bhandup.

There was a Young Lady of Nahur
To whom many men pledged their amour.
But she escaped them all
By jumping o'er a wall -
That feline Young Lady of Nahur.

There was an Old Woman of Mulund
Who rarely ever suffered a wound.
Her skin was so thick
That no pin could prick -
That pachydermous Old Woman of Mulund.

There was a Gentleman of Thane
Who mostly dined upon Chardonnay,
He'd a heart made of gold,
He was kind to the old -
That humane Gentleman of Thane.


There was an Old Woman of Kalva
Who doted on Karachi halva.
She'd empty a shop
Before she would stop -
That wolfish Old Woman of Kalva.

There was an Old Woman of Mumbra
Who shifted her home out of Mumbra.
She would have been staying
If it rhymed with something -
That migratory Old Woman of Mumbra.

There was an Old Lady of Diva
Who came from the Khanate of Khiva.
She'd do nothing all day
But hop and jump and play -
That kittenish Old Lady of Diva.

There was a Gentleman of Kopar
Who was something of a landloper.
He was quite impudent
And also imprudent -
That puppyish Gentleman of Kopar.

There was a Man of Dombivali
Who was lanky unnaturally.
His body was twiglike
And his limbs were threadlike -
That spidery Man of Dombivali.


There was a Young Man of Thakurli
Who played on a bamboo shoot murli -
So he'd not fall asleep
While a-herding his sheep -
That ovine Young Man of Thakurli.

There was an Old Lady of Kalyan
Who preferred everything be cyan.
She said that it calmed her
During stormy weather -
That rabbity Old Lady of Kalyan.


There was a Man of Vithalwadi
Who suffered from no known malady.
Yet his body as such
Was cold to the touch -
That froggy Man of Vithalwadi.
There was an Old Woman of Shahad
Who could see as far as Ahmedabad.
She worked in the police
Starting as a novice -
That eagle-eyed Old Woman of Shahad.

There was a Man of Ulhasnagar
Who looked like a Gangetic mugger
He was known for his claws
And his dangerous jaws -
That crocodilian Man of Ulhasnagar.
There was a Man of Ambivali
Who smiled quite beatifically.
He kicked like an ostrich
When he had barber's itch -
That struthious Man of Ambivali.

There was a Young Man of Ambernath
Who left behind him an aftermath.
So they put him in jail
Till he grew very frail -
That mothballed Young Man of Ambernath.

There was an Old Man of Titwala
Who secretly practised Kabbalah.
When he was not pensive
He would get defensive -
That porcupiny Old Man of Titwala.

There was an Old man of Badlapur
Who received no one's imprimatur.
He was very flabby
And generally shabby -
That ratty Old Man of Badlapur.
There was a Lady of Khadavli
Whose features were considered lovely.
Her fangs were pearly white,
Her scales were polished bright -
That snaky Lady of Khadavli.

There was a Woman of Vangani
Who pulled down trees of mahogany.
She chopped them in pieces
To give to her nieces -
That elephantine Woman of Vangani.
There was a Young Woman of Vasind
Who had to be chained during a wind.
No matter what she ate
An ant would have more weight -
That formicine Young Woman of Vasind.

There was a Gentleman of Shelu
Whose nose had around it a halo.
He had nothing to hide
So he bore it with pride -
That aquiline Gentleman of Shelu.
There was an Old Man of Asangaon
Who migrated there from Girangaon.
When all the mills closed
He ate his own clothes -
That moth-eaten Old Man of Asangaon.


There was a Gentleman of Neral
Whose promises were quite ephemeral.
He entered politics
And baffled his critics -
That weaselly Gentleman of Neral.
There was an Old Woman of Atgaon
Who dressed like an Egyptian pharaon.
She climbed up a steeple
And lived off the people
That jackalish Old Woman of Atgaon.

There was a Man of Bhivpuri Road
Who had never missed an episode
Of any K-serial
- serious or ethereal -
That slothful Man of Bhivpuri Road.
There was a Young Lady of Khardi
Who was very stolid and sturdy
She'd carry her home
Wherever she'd roam
That testudinal Young Lady of Khardi.

There was an Old Lady of Karjat
Whose chief consumption was of sharbat.
She sang a libretto
In rising falsetto -
That nightingale-voiced Old Lady of Karjat.

There was a Young Man of Kasara
Who spoke Quechua and Aymara.
He came from the Andes
And lived upon candies
That llamaish Young Man of Kasara.


There was a Man of Palasdhari
Who thought he was a great shikari.
He aimed at a rooster
But shot a barrister
That mole-eyed Man of Palasdhari.

There was a Man of Kelavali
Who once boxed with Muhammad Ali.
He would butt like a boar
All who knocked at his door
That suilline Man of Kelavali.

There was a Man of Dolavali
Who was well-trained in Kathakali.
He moved from place to place
With unparalleled grace
That deer-footed Man of Dolavali.

There was a Gentleman of Lowjee
Who was a retired fauji.
But he'd sit on a tree
And talk like a monkey
That simian Gentleman of Lowjee.

There was an Old Man of Khopoli
Who adored Angelina Jolie.
He sent her some neck-ties
Made up of butterflies
That lepidopteran Old Man of Khopoli.



*Not A Real Gentleman

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