World poetry day- an old post of mine

Because it is (or it was?) “world poetry day”, coming up with another “phalangeal secretion”(phalanges-fingers)

Disturbing our biological clock
Technology in all forms does hawk;
Books lie untouched occupying shelves
In the Virtual world our “Jack of all” dwells;

Peace is now only a mere hashtag
Where Likes, Comments lead minds and ideas lag;
Thanks to the smileys for devocalising the grammar nazis pointing out flaws,
No more ‘omgs, bebs, angles and awwwws’;

Life is all about timelines and dinelines
Apply that Snapchat filter and look how your DP shines;
From “what’s on your mind” to “nearby friends” to “on this day”,
Welcome to Facebook said Zuckerberg but Please log out its past midnight, did he ever say?

MBs are not calories, let’s not burn them
P.S I love social networking; its just a facepalm poem.
-Dr.Azbah Pirzada #PhalangealSecretions

What next?
Maybe a WhatsApp text


Shuck and Jive

Well, it is raining outside and as you would expect me, I am sitting on the couch glued to the 6 inched screen with SuperAmoled display. Before you mercilessly scroll the screen seeing me brag about my new phone; let me get Straight to the main point of this seemingly pointless discussion.

I have this very cunning habit of giving out selective hints at the beginning of my posts just to evoke the inner grammar nazis in you and vaccinating you with antigrammar antigens so that the herd immunity strengthens. For those who are going to scroll back again to find out the cue and for the others who have already patted themselves for correcting the capital S deliberately put before the common noun “straight” which won’t be anymore common in our country, let me curtail the curiosity. Yes, it is about section 377 or rather the tsunami of reactions it has led to on social media.

6th september was flooded with newspapers elliciting the creative bests of cartoonists and columnists. A sketch of a prism emitting 6 colored rainbows caught my attention. “Law of dispersion of light”: the inner deeply buried and resting-in-peace physics in my cerebrum exclaimed. I nonchalantly kept the newspaper aside and unlocked my phone only to find rainbows swirling over facebook timelines and instagram stories.

A friend had posted heart emojis of 6 different colors in a sequence, the same lazy friend who had wished me happy birthday without any punctuations or even a petty smiley at the least. I wonder where do people get such motivation from. A few posts later, an extremely catchy image caught my attention. Someone had artistically doctrinated the 6 colors on her nails leaving me wondering about the efforts and the manpower required to capture this objet d’art.

Then this whatsapp status thing happened which is perhaps the stimulus for this very spunned out blogpost. A friend had posted “Spread the Love❤🧡💛💚💙💜 #coming out”

Horrified, I texted her “What was that?”

“Arre tujhe pata nahi 377 India me aa gaya hai wapas. Sabka yahi status hai whatsapp pe . Tu bhi rakh”

GSMU! Ground Swallow Me Up was what I felt! After explaining her that 377 wasnt the Kohinoor that India had to bring back to, rather it was a law that India had abolished, she deleted the story she had posted out of mere euphoria of blindly following. It occured to me that are these folks even aware of what they are posting or it is just the usual Shuck and Jive.

For instance, I believe that for me to support any cause would require me to accept it all or none, irregardless of any situation or person which can be a friend or a family member. Being the diplomatic that I am, I have no antagonism against the issue but neither would I be pleased if a closed one declares #ComingOut. Would rather chose to stay nonchalant or unaffected when such issues are concerned. Atleast would not go on incessantly posting on social media because it is trending. Actors and celebrities do have to post because the media considers their silence as a No and next day there would be a two paged article titled “Heartless Ms Xyz did not say a word about this incident”. But we- the mango people are not compelled to do so as we have both the “freedom to speak” and the “freedom of not having to speak”.

So over a lunch date when we were discussing about our spammed timelines, this idea struck me which I later posted as a status on whatsapp ofcourse with the hashtag of NoOffense, after all that Shuck and Jive.

{Shuck and Jive : Pretence, to pretend}


“Dude get up! It’s 10 already”

And he wakes up, shrugging his shoulders, fingercombing his entangled, shampoo-deprived hair and readjusting the white smelly, stained attire he is wearing.

45 unread messages : the homescreen of his phone reminds. He starts to open each one of them and replies “Thank you” to the first message. Before he can proceed to reply the next message, the friend returns and lends him a cup of lemon juice. “This was the only best available thing down there”.

” Chill. It’s probably good for both of us in this very hour” he remarked.

And both of them proceed to their work leaving the room empty..

Wait..Is the room really empty?

What is it that still remains?

There is something still here..



No, I am not at all in a mood to spam you all with a horror story. We’ve already had enough of them. Half cut hands are so in-fashion, tiptoeing everywhere from Colors to Starplus; from busstops to those billboards at the traffic signals; blinking at us everywhere at nights; omnipresent literally.

Image result for qayamat ki raat hand

Coming to the point, what is it that still remains, lingering your minds?

Assumptions, the-what-could-bes and interpretations..

By now you would have already imagined, assumed and perhaps even envied the lifestyle of the two characters portrayed in the very beginning. Boozing up whole night; wearing let-it-be-who-cares and waking up at 10 in the morning to reply thank you to 45 messages : Woah! Someone is truly enjoying his birthday. Probably yes. But actually not..

The person in talking is a doctor. Didn’t I mention the white smelly attire? Oh and did I just forget to put “minutes” after the 10 ! Missing minute(pun intended) details in the very first sentence..

So, our hero is a doctor, and no he isn’t holidaying or -OHing (alcoholizing, just in case you’ve forgotten chemistry). He just had his power nap of 10 minutes to be precise, after a hectic night duty.


Lemonade was the only available thing in those wee hours of emergency; putting your pre-assumption modes to rest. Pre-assuming is dangerous. It can give you lemons!

This what we do actually. Pre-assuming, misinterpreting, misleading ourselves into selfcreated notions of doctors, thanks to the media. Everywhere around us we see newspapers bejewelled with articles self-judging negligence cases of doctors; media interrogating every other person about the pros and cons of govt. hospitals regardless of the actual cons-in-disguise.

Pre-assumptions are human nature, but before misinterpreting we should not deprive our pinnas to the other side of the story..

Back to the story, Calendar check: 1st of July. No, it’s not the birthday of the hero of our story. Afterall, emergency duties on birthdays is a pitiful thing, let us spare this fictional character atleast..

So it is doctors day and our hero was replying(or had almost tried to reply) to the “Happy doctors day” messages on his WhatsApp.

This is how doctors actually CELEBRATE doctors day. They are surely overwhelmed with your doctors day messages and wishes but would be more than happy if you stop paying heed to unconfirmed news and being prejudgemental in the negativities surrounding them..

Let us stop being hypocrites towards the Hippocrates oath..

Happy Doctors Day!

The Quintessential Introvert Writer

I am never the loudest person in the room,
I  have a Gag reflex to what you call glam up and groom;
Hanging around and socializing sounds extra-terrestrial for me
Books, bean bags and coffee; my ultimate triad of glee..

I am one of those who stare awkwardly at their phone screens after a casual hello just to be nice;
But I’m also unbelievably unstoppable once you break the ice;
You would often find me smelling the pages of a novel, crisp and new
Or walking barefeet on the beach, admiring the sea view..

Friends? O yeah I do have a bunch of them after ofcourse they pass the ISI mark of friendship,
They often say you took physiology subject so serious so deep,
Do your vocal cords work on an All or None Phenomena controlled chip;
Because I’m either on my chirpy Radio-Jockey mode or put on the usual invisible zip;

A fistful of awkwardness and a pinch of poise,
I may show anaphylaxis to the slightest of noise;
There will be more of Yes Yes then a NO in my voice,
By now you might have known who I am girls and boys..

I am the quintessential introvert writer yeah you guessed it right,
I speak a little less but I love to read and write;
Weaving those 26 alphabets into stories, novels and poetry whatever I might,
Attempting to spread smiles, like the dawning daylight..


“Live to love and you will love to live”

So it is a day meant for poetry and the creativity of wannabe writers like me springs up like the hormones of pubertal spurts. Well, writing isn’t as easy as it seems. There are days when you are sitting in a sophisticated NoThoughtZone and suddenly words come unwelcomed with no place or time to jot them down. And then there are days like these when you purposefully want to write and bring out the inner Ruskin Bonds and Paulo Coelhos in you but your mind starts playing hide and seek with your phalanges. Finally after multiple stances of Staring-Blankly-At-The-Walls, logging in and out of the blog only to use the backspace; and dilemmas of what topic to write and more importantly what not to; here it is – the poetry. Romance is the genre which I always land up to, for it yields an unmatchable solace in reading as well as writing. I aint William Wordsworth but I endeavor for words of worth, words that would perhaps make someones day, if not my “magnum opus”.


World poetry day it is
The poet in me I badly miss;

For when I didn't know how to construct how to rhyme
You entered my life, like a melodious windchime;
The void the silence with which my mind was tiled,
Instantaneously vanished with the way you smiled.

My moodswings and your laughter,
My shyness and your boldness,
My homeboundness and your wanderlust,
My lyrics and your music;
Your patience complements my hustle;
Baby we fit in like pieces of a puzzle.

I wonder whenever I'd sit down to write
Humour,mystery,politics or the nature so bright;
Always ended up writing on love my dear;
Be it flowers,cheesecakes,roses or Teddy bear.

Scribbling words and spreading happiness,
Is how I shared our tales of togetherness;
The cover page of my halfwritten novel smirks
The title in bold reads "waiting always works".

Then comes this day when I attempt to write again,
A stanza, a line nowhere to be found all my efforts in vain;
Find out what's lost, you make me believe
Live to love and you will love to live..


8 in the morning and my auditory nerves get stimulated by the pitter-pattering of her 90’s Zimmer- which has witnessed evolution from being tetra-castered to tri,bi and the current unicaster-Hence the noise disaster(and the rhyming disaster as well). The burgundy dupatta covering her ebony-black-hair enough to give inferiority complex to women half of her age; grandma sits on her Brobdingnagian wooden chair- the undeclared throne of the house, from where the instructions and directions to kingdom kitchen are made. Pouring her freshly brewed tea in the saucer she takes a quick look over the newspaper; only to land into religiously reading each and every possible article, paragraph, sentence, word and characters-including the dead ones on the third page.

“Twenty cars, fifteen two-wheelers, ten shops attacked..” She laid out a sigh abruptly ending what I thought was to be her grey cells rehearsing the table of 5 in reverse. “Oh yes”- I replied while scrolling through dozens of forwarded Whatsapp messages of Padmaavati-running freely and successfully all over India without any problems; only to followed by a 43kb image of a truck labeled of the same name.

“Wonder when this Padmaavati fiasco will end” She sighs.

“Padmaavat dadiamma. They’ve removed an I ”. I replied as if it was the greatest act of selflessness one could do- Removing an I from your own work.

“Anyways, keep the teacups on the holder. I love the kitchen neat and tidy.” She smiled.

Irony is News is supposed to be synonymous to Tidings. I wonder when it would be. Till then, English is such a funny language.

Farewell poetry for #TheBatchWithASwag (first hashtag of my life)-MARCH 2016

  • Five and a half years back I met some 150 crazy people,

Entered room number 230 which we shared triple;

Exchanged names and hanged out in ways so casual,

In a totally new place with a “promise-to-be-ready-soon” visual.


Climbing up and down the stairs of G.K.General hospital,

Bunking the afternoon “STASSTICS” lecture down the ramp- jostling like cattle;

Befriending some in the mess & some in the dissection halls,

Scribbling down memories in our hippocampal walls.


There were moments which made us panic- like the first physiology tutorial,

Where we hid our Sembulingams under Guytons & appeared surreal;

When Cunningham was like the executive pass you need to enter a concert,

When the OAT was still under construction, making your “compulsory-white-dissection-shoes” full of dirt;


The 5 o’clock time in the New Mess for “chaaaa”

Guys glancing out” maari vaadi have to aaaaa”;

Exams came and went;

Results gave us a “dil ma dent”;


A year passed and started the 9 am clinics,

People began to mix up, so PSM visits felt like picnics;


Second year for couples was like monsoon for frogs,

Gossips began to fill up our Whatsapp Chatlogs;

“chotlis” transformed into shampooed straightened hair,

Formals into casuals, afterall Love Was In The Air;


Still remember those evening times when library got full

Disturbing with “ssh sssh” and “kach kach” was actually cool.

The second year passed in parties: dine till nine,

The university exams sent a chill down the spine.


Third year started which was truly a relief,

Annual functions, trips, movies – our priorities chief;

Informals, DJs, Garbas, Antakshris & the magic of Aura,

KSKV site getting updated before results- a feeling of tora tora;


Final year bells started ringing,

Our spreaded out schedules started shrinking;

The tension of the coming final exams,

The sadness of the nearing  departure from GAIMS arms;


The journey through GAIMS is not over yet,

Alumnis are definitely gonna meet up and re-unite I bet;

I am taking with me the heaviest sweetest memory bag,

Thank you for the amazing journey TheBatchWithaSwag.