Madam Giselle
feminine, Literature, poetry, satire

Madam Giselle’s Pride

“Makeupum Divina lipstickum 

Hail Oh, scentum , perfumee lios

Goddess Stilettum que sara sara”

Madam Giselle woke up to one glorious afternoon,

and damn those long-long lashes stretching little

over than the river Nile. Sparkling stilettos towering 

way above the heights of the leaning Towers of Pisa!

Having Insight 24 inches waist Madam stretched her back,

skillfully squeezed her belly to adorn golden Victorian 

corset, but it wasn’t to be easy for Gods have conspired and

were hell bent to bring down the penniless heiress from the

25 floor Ivory Castle.

As madam painted her face white with crushed powders of

corals from the far-off Gulfs in the fashions of Japanese Geisha

Fluttered fake lashes, ostentatious snobbish smiles extending

little more than her chiseled jaws, heavily armored with

 French powder and perfumes.

All the effort to slay any man who dare to passed by, hurriedly made

her way through the narrow allies of apartment suit in a

perpendicular fashion to avoid crushing her precious creases.

Oh so much pride, such high vanity, but she is indeed a beauty!

Tragedy fell upon! A loud thunder as heavens roared

heels cracked the sparkling Stilettos fell apart before her careful

gaze giving way to the bare ankles. It was to be the

first omen,

Acrimonious beings floating  fluttering in air laughing,

giggling; a loud thunder & descended million unwelcome

tiny crystal droplets, soaking the kohl smudged eyes

cascading into pools of black waters….

“Why it had to happen to me” ,cried Madam Giselle

Was my crime to be in vain or was it just a naive disdain?

For tell me folks is
little pride bad for a woman of my type? 

Madam Giselle
feminine, Love, poetry, satire, wit,, woman

Ms. Matilda’s Woes

Ms. Matilda woke past the noon,

swooning to the Beethoven’s sad tune.

A mysterious ailment swipes,

over the modern women of her types.

These curious cases of daddys’ princesses,

of colossal estates and multiple mates.

Are inflicted with malady of swinging moods,

making them shudder at matchless boots.

Ms. Matilda sitting still in her bedclothes,

howled remembering how at,

the party last night, enemy women clapped

secretly when her golden heels zapped,

and as her crimson lipstick chapped;

she knew her teddy heart is in for a snap.

poetry, satire

Daylight Saving

The days of grand Camelot are over,

dark ashen damp dew now hovers; 

The freshly baked pies are a hoax

At least that’s what we have been coaxed

Daylight saving is now fluctuating

Am I still hallucinating? 

When glorious God said let their be light 

he knew not over here it was still night.

Intellectuals and their thoughts

but  there are no causes to be fought

Wordsworth’s English daffodils are blooming 

once again my lazy brain is fuming.

I overslept thinking it was a raven night,

but weather channel said it’s all hyped

get up there is enough light!

Green goddess Springdales has arrived

Wait I don’t see a single twig in sight,

my neighbor’s garden is still white!



feminine, Humour, Love, Nature, poetry

A Man Of Interest

A dream that possessed
One frightful night as I slept
Heard faint echoes and whispers
Terrified hid my face
In the fleece
Astonished saw
Shadows of mermaids
Sitting on edge
Fallen in love
With the same man
Ensuing a complex dilemma
Who will win
him over and
Be the object of
his drunk glances and
Vanilla flavored kisses

Mermaids no less than other
In looks or virtue
put forward
One strategy to defeat
the other
summon chefs of Conficious
How about “atar” from Arabia
French Petitt Gâteau or

Pearls from the basin of deep ocean
As discussing the
Sauvé debonair walked in

Time just froze
Stupefied mermaids
Out of all the one most
spoilt and bratty
With a look of disinterest
Casually yawning
Off handish uttered
I yearn a delicate
Piece of Velvet Cake
Made from Swiss strawberries


Lots of French wine to gulp
It down my parched throat
Hearing her, all the damsels
Thought one less competitor
As for the Man of Interest
Resolute thought damsel for velvet cake
Is the only one for me
As she appears the least bothered

And the happiest of all…

So crux my fine ladies keep smiling

Don’t fret never frown, eat your cake

Any man will be at your feet.

Men of Interest are no mystery

Any more…


Humour, poetry, satire, Self-Help, wit,

Exorcisim of Flue

Pray smiles to be infectious, not cruel flue
Sneezing coughing reeling be transformed 
Into jumping, dancing merrymaking 
Let smile spread its rays not the contagious virus
The agony and lamentation will strangulate you 
Let in each house dwells a divine heater
Providing warmth and protection of mother’s lap 
Aloud bang, a sneeze last week in the shower
A bad omen understood, I knew the second coming
It grabbed me last winters with its cruel beak 
Poking, scratching, bruising gentle nose 
Became untouchable in my own golden cage
Fear lingered midst mob of fraternity 
A look of horror gripped the gentle husband 
What ensued a sport of hide and seek 
Seven thundering nights and days 
The merciless devil possessed, howled
Hammered my innocent head, miracle concoctions
Holy waters stopped working, until on efforts 
Of an ancient doctor’s exorcism, the spell was broken 
Exquisite  Zingiber Officinale, the herb from a valley 
Far in basins of holy Ganges was brought 
The divine sage burnt with chants the stubborn
The flue was chased, trapped in a lamp from
Arabian nights finally set afloat to distant lands 
With words of caution, get your shots on time 
Or escape the wrath of devil, whose terror ranges
from sinking sands of Sahara to impenetrable 
forests of Amazonian terrain, till the mighty 

(I wrote this poem as I am suffering from the bad flu, I’ve been sneezing and coughing a lot. The poem is my take on this irritating ailment.)

Humour, poetry, satire, wit,

No Dearth of Fools in This world

One Monsieur Tiramisu perplexed
Decided to hunt fools in the complex
Modesty was his robe which he wore
With unparalleled vanity and pride 
Carried a machete with a daunting task
Wiping out fools before dusk
Stepped out of the house in the icy storm
Looking for a trace of any delinquent in the town 
Not a soul on the slippery road, wondered 
Where have my victims gone tonight 
Saw a bearded homeless by the side 
Have you seen any fool, for I’m on the
Mission to slay them all my friend 
Then you must go home my foe
Make a near precision on your neck
For you are a fool  yourself, Mr. Boskichov
How dare you spoke those words to me
You insolent bastard, I called you a friend 
Don’t underestimate your foolishness Monsieur
For anyone to have an idea of hunting fools 
Stepping out of house in the icy cold wind 
Carrying a machete in the age of gun
Asking a homeless for people’s address
I am talking to someone like you, I am a fool myself
Tanya penning us in poem is bigger fool than us 
Those reading carefully this gibberish text are,
Biggest fools so far yet, a tale of fools read by fools 
There’s is no dearth of fools in this world  my friend!

Inspiration, Uncategorized

Unsolicited Advice & People Behind Them

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.”

William Shakespeare

Lately, everyone seems to be knowing what I should be doing in my life. It looks like there are a lot many experts on my life out there. I’ve been getting a lot of advice from motherhood to exercising to expenditure. It’s a good feeling to be having so many well-wishers around me, but sometimes it’s irksome. I’ve always had very less patience for people who are ready to offer advice at the drop of their hats. There is a type of people who are expert in giving advice no matter what. They can offer you advice on everything under the sun from science to religion. In their little brains, they are great connoisseurs of art, etymologists, linguists, perfumers scientists and many more. Mister Know -All or Ms. Know-All has lead a very rich life brimming with renaissance arts and inventions. A life modeled on the theosophic and pragmatic philosophies of Aristotle and Plato while your average life revolves around earning bread and butter. How ordinary?

Unsolicited Advisers

We all have at least one Monseuir Know -All either in our families or at our work, who will not stop offering advice. His little brain seems to have decoded the secrets of every possible mystery hidden in the universe. If not on any other discipline he/she is surely an expert on your life. The mini Darwins as I like to call them, have expounded an evolutionist theory on your life from the cradle to the grave and everything that lies in between. While they are permitted to offer their pearls of wisdom through a divine right, you must behold your tongue since you are ignorant of your misdeeds. The sheer horror of their site makes you want to change the course of your discourse, alter the path to your cubicles and if necessary question the maker of your destiny. Question your lord, why did you drop this specimen of intelligence and beauty in my life? Is it to make me feel pathetic and miserable?

Psychology Behind Unsolicited Advisers

People who offer too many devices are failures in their respective fields. The advice is a way to exert their need for superiority in your life. I once had someone advise me on getting up early for a jog when I asked innocently is he getting up early, the answer was no. It was an expected answer, after all, someone who gets up at four to exercise, knows how difficult it is. They seem to be specialists in relationships too and know exactly how you can rectify relationship mistakes. But have a glance at their relationships, and you will realize their affairs are a complete train-wreck. The need to fulfill the void in their lives make them offer advice. It’s an act of masquerading where they try to conceal their follies and mistakes. The inbuilt insecurity and the perfect envy drives them to pretend that know everything about you and your not so picture-perfect lives.

It’s never wise to take an offense when you have someone giving you advice on a regular basis. At least this is what I’ve realized during my many encounters with such individuals. It’s perhaps more useful to understand the cause beneath their know-all façade. As you will get to know them, you will discover an injured soul or a disappointed life. Next time when you have a chance rendezvous with a habitual advice giver, don’t alter your path simply lend your ear and remember,

“Advisors are generally brilliant theoreticians but wretched practitioners.”

Francoise Giroud