So this is what I’m reduced to!!!! My computer’s sad demise has left me writing abominably bad poetry about incidents that occurred months and months ago…. Alas!!! My week of bad luck continues. One hopes that the following one will be rather more in the general direction of happiness, peace and comfort - though if I assure myself of that, i shall, undoubtedly, be disappointed in every way, throughout the said week! [...]
Let me regale you with a tale of yore
Let me regale you with a tale of yore
That you’ll enjoy it I’m sure
Truth to tell, we went through hell
Perhaps for you it may ring a bell
A similar incident you may have had as well.
I entered my room tired and worn
Greeted by a roomie joyous and warm
‘There are fish here you know,’
Said she all aglow
‘In the stairwell, and they look low.’
‘Fish,’ said I, startled and alarmed
‘Why and wherefore, be darned?!’
‘The maid brought them in,
In a plastic bottle, not a tin,
She though they oughta be kept in.’
‘A plastic bottle, not bowled?’
‘Not even a bottle, a dirty jar – old.’
‘How many are there?’
‘Seven’d be a guess quite fair.’
‘What’ll we do with ‘em – out there?’
I hastened out to see them
In the stairwell perceived them
Seven ugly fish in a jar
Breadcrumbs their clean water did mar
The dirtiest fish ever seen by far.
‘They look like they’re dying
To survive not even trying!’
‘We’ll give ‘em to Karuna down the stairs
An aquarium she has we’re aware
She’ll keep them alive, I’d swear!’
Post-haste down the stairs we went
Rang the bell and looked through the vent
Karuna answered the doorbell
We asked could she keep fish well
‘No way,’ she replied. ‘They ain’t swell.’
Foiled in our crusade was our lament
Yet more options seeking we went
I called a friend on the phone even
‘Do you want to adopt fish seven?’
‘Fish? Ugly? Not even if there’re eleven!’
She spoke to a colleague from Cal
‘Do you want to adopt fish, me gal?’
‘Are they pretty?’
‘Not even a bitty!’
‘Then – no – not even out of pity!’
‘Seven fish in a dirty jar
They’re going to die – it’s not far!’
So we decided to transfer ‘em
From the jar into a bucket pour ‘em
But how would we strain ‘em?
Shilpika said. ‘I’m not fussy,
I’ll put my hand in – no worry!’
We took them to the loo
And dismayed surveyed the goo
And cried.’ Shilpika – hurry up, do!’
She plopped them into the bucket
One by one – ooh – yucket!!
One lay rather still
We wondered – was it ill?
Until we realized ‘twas deathly chill.
Six fish rather still in clean water
And drops of dechlorinater two and a quarter
Karuna dropped in some fish feed
They still didn’t look upto speed
Nor did they show any greed
We left them there for the night
Thought they should be alright
We’d collar the maid the next day
Ask her why she left them that way
And get her to take them away
The next morning they were reeking
The odor we’d not have gone seeking
To think we’d thought of eating
Fish that looked like they’d taken a beating
That doesn’t even bear repeating!!
Finally the maid arrived
‘How could you do this,’ we cried
‘Now take ‘em back where they belong
Give ‘em to whoever you got ‘em from.
We don’t want ‘em, at least not for long.’
‘Okay, I’ll put them though the flush
They’ll be got rid of n a rush.’
That was the maid’s solution
Which caused rather a commotion
But we refused to give in to emotion
‘They must be got rid of.’
I barked and went off in a huff.
She swept and swabbed the house
Then took them away amid many a grouse
Those fish were never again heard of.
MV (Creativegarh) wrote in reply:
Hi Aarti,
There's something moving about such tales
Of blood and death on small scales
But how much more gory
Would this fishy little story
Have been had it involved killer whales.
My reply:
Hey Manoj
Truth to tell, we went through hell
Perhaps for you it may ring a bell
A similar incident you may have had as well.
I entered my room tired and worn
Greeted by a roomie joyous and warm
‘There are fish here you know,’
Said she all aglow
‘In the stairwell, and they look low.’
‘Fish,’ said I, startled and alarmed
‘Why and wherefore, be darned?!’
‘The maid brought them in,
In a plastic bottle, not a tin,
She though they oughta be kept in.’
‘A plastic bottle, not bowled?’
‘Not even a bottle, a dirty jar – old.’
‘How many are there?’
‘Seven’d be a guess quite fair.’
‘What’ll we do with ‘em – out there?’
I hastened out to see them
In the stairwell perceived them
Seven ugly fish in a jar
Breadcrumbs their clean water did mar
The dirtiest fish ever seen by far.
‘They look like they’re dying
To survive not even trying!’
‘We’ll give ‘em to Karuna down the stairs
An aquarium she has we’re aware
She’ll keep them alive, I’d swear!’
Post-haste down the stairs we went
Rang the bell and looked through the vent
Karuna answered the doorbell
We asked could she keep fish well
‘No way,’ she replied. ‘They ain’t swell.’
Foiled in our crusade was our lament
Yet more options seeking we went
I called a friend on the phone even
‘Do you want to adopt fish seven?’
‘Fish? Ugly? Not even if there’re eleven!’
She spoke to a colleague from Cal
‘Do you want to adopt fish, me gal?’
‘Are they pretty?’
‘Not even a bitty!’
‘Then – no – not even out of pity!’
‘Seven fish in a dirty jar
They’re going to die – it’s not far!’
So we decided to transfer ‘em
From the jar into a bucket pour ‘em
But how would we strain ‘em?
Shilpika said. ‘I’m not fussy,
I’ll put my hand in – no worry!’
We took them to the loo
And dismayed surveyed the goo
And cried.’ Shilpika – hurry up, do!’
She plopped them into the bucket
One by one – ooh – yucket!!
One lay rather still
We wondered – was it ill?
Until we realized ‘twas deathly chill.
Six fish rather still in clean water
And drops of dechlorinater two and a quarter
Karuna dropped in some fish feed
They still didn’t look upto speed
Nor did they show any greed
We left them there for the night
Thought they should be alright
We’d collar the maid the next day
Ask her why she left them that way
And get her to take them away
The next morning they were reeking
The odor we’d not have gone seeking
To think we’d thought of eating
Fish that looked like they’d taken a beating
That doesn’t even bear repeating!!
Finally the maid arrived
‘How could you do this,’ we cried
‘Now take ‘em back where they belong
Give ‘em to whoever you got ‘em from.
We don’t want ‘em, at least not for long.’
‘Okay, I’ll put them though the flush
They’ll be got rid of n a rush.’
That was the maid’s solution
Which caused rather a commotion
But we refused to give in to emotion
‘They must be got rid of.’
I barked and went off in a huff.
She swept and swabbed the house
Then took them away amid many a grouse
Those fish were never again heard of.
MV (Creativegarh) wrote in reply:
Hi Aarti,
There's something moving about such tales
Of blood and death on small scales
But how much more gory
Would this fishy little story
Have been had it involved killer whales.
My reply:
Hey Manoj
I didn't think to khoj
Gory enough was my tale
For little ol' me to regale
Minds that think on a larger scale!!!!
MV's second quip:
Hi Arati,
O I'm quite filled with remorse
The tale was great, of course
It surely can't be made better
But by tweaking idea and letter,
We just might make it worse! :-)
My last words:
M don’t be remorseful
After all, u were only being thoughtful
When minds that create
Work in conjunction, it’s great
In this lies a tale's fate.
Gory enough was my tale
For little ol' me to regale
Minds that think on a larger scale!!!!
MV's second quip:
Hi Arati,
O I'm quite filled with remorse
The tale was great, of course
It surely can't be made better
But by tweaking idea and letter,
We just might make it worse! :-)
My last words:
M don’t be remorseful
After all, u were only being thoughtful
When minds that create
Work in conjunction, it’s great
In this lies a tale's fate.
