Poems by Nikhil Chandhok

The Last Leaf

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

She was terribly ill,
Surviving on a pill.
But deep within
A suspicion had begun to grow,
When she peeped
Outside the window.
Had a firm belief,
Destined on that last leaf.
From her tree when that fell
Almighty would ring the BELL.
In that chilly winter,
Her parents approached a painter.
“Bed-ridden she may be
But I give no guarantee.”
Explained the painter,
With a touch of pain.
He believed the girl should
Live through the pain
But to her parents delight,
The girl started putting up a fight.
Hopes pinned on her last leaf,
Which had shared her grief.
Even when it rained
The leaf still remained.
Each passing day,
Necessitated another pray.
Hoping the leaf would stay.
Today she is well,
As the leaf never fell.
For it was a plan
Of an old man
To paint an artificial one on the window
Just to let the life’s desire grow…

Niagra Falls

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

One cold morning,
With a lot of chill.
Digestive system pressure,
Was going for a kill!
I entered a toilet,
Glued myself to the seat.
Showered two scud-missiles,
By no means a great feat.
On the way,
I did fart.
In terms of toxic gases,
It played a big part.
But toilets are ventilated!
Architects do have a heart.
Then I used the Water-Jet,
Which terribly strikes you,
As hard as one can get.
After minutes of patience,
What one does get,
Is a cuter little buttock,
Which is smartly wet.
No need to blush,
When it is time to flush.
Missiles are through the funnel,
Meeting stronger ones in the Tunnel!

Autobiography of a Shoe

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

My name is Lotus Bawa,
And was bought from the island of Java.
My owner is on a sail,
Merry drinking wine and ale.
And when he is back,
I am removed from the rack.
Rapped in immense dust,
Master looks at me with disgust.
Gone are the days when one foot-tap,
Would send the sandals in a trap.
My sporty cousin,
Is in a good state.
He loves running,
Resting he does hate.
Even though purchased late,
For the Master he had to never wait.
My cousin from the States,
Has a different fate.
He is cleaned round the clock,
Since he is a ‘Reebok’.

There is an amusing story,
Behind my brother Reebok.
Trekking-love once forced my owner,
To once climb a massive rock.
He climbed the target,
But only with a lonely sock.
Blisters spoilt the party,
Dear! He could barely walk.
The very next day,
Came a sailing knock.
It was then that he purchased him,
When reporting at the U.S Dock.

But I have seen a better time,
In my glowing prime.
Sporting that rich glossy shine,
The ladies were all mine.
I remember it was ‘Nike’ first,
As they say : Sick of Love-Thirst!
She had asked me to JUST DO IT.
But I was cautious,
And asked her to first prove it.
Eager to tie the knot,
She married my stout friend ‘Bata’.
I gave away my love, said ‘OK TATA’.

Next was the glorious La-Bella,
Who reminded me of Dicken’s Estella.
Charming, gorgeous, flamboyant and tall,
Name it, she had it all!
Together a few days we did spend,
But I must tell you the end.
Out of me she made an ass,
When she laced-up with ‘Addidas’.
But the rest was still due,
And it happens with very few.
As in maturity I grew,
I found the love that was true.
Florina was her name,
And we both felt the same!
Oh! I loved her so.
How much? You will never know.
But this affair was to dramatically end,
Which is still tough to apprehend.

A rousy gangster named ‘Force-10’,
Held my darling tight.
Stripped her off silken laces bright,
And gave her a derogatory Shoe-Bite!
Before being torn to shreds,
Florina put up a good fight.

Agony was apparent in her open mouth,
As she was in fright.
I cannot remember if I cried,
When I lay by her side,
Something touched my SOLE inside,
The day Florina died.

A part of history now,
Are all my Love-tales.
The only life-inducing tonics,
Are some strongly hammered nails.
A new branded sole helps,
If old one fails.

As do noble cobblers say,
A little bit of Shoe – Polish,
Keeps us happy and gay.
Tapping around the female footwear,
Makes our day.
Beware Hawaii Chappals and Floaters!
We are here to stay!

A Ship’s Autobiography

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

A shipowner’s banker,
I am a robust tanker.
Here is a tale,
Of my twenty years of sail.
I have been all around,
And never run aground.
Green as a pea,
I sailed through the calm sea.
Once the sea got rough,
I became more tough.
How can I forget,
That glorious sunset.
Today I just stay afloat,
Am laughed at by a Tug-boat.
As months pass by,
I am turning grey.
But still in the fray.
As people hauntingly say,
I just cannot make my way.
Steel plants take guard,
Soon I shall be in the Scrapyard.


a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

You can find,
A student blow up his mind.
Oh dear!
That examination fear.
You need a good seat,
To painstakingly cheat.
Exchange of knowledge,
Can change your college.
An answer perfectly fits,
With portable chits.
Exams are an ultimate test,
For the VIP vest!
Once you are free,
There is no struggling spree.
When everything is in a mess,
You have to make a guess.
Ways you will never mend,
For a little help,
You will always bend.
Only some time on the clock,
You know you need to talk!
As long as exams remain,
Enjoy this terrible pain!


a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

After a sweating semester,
Of yet another year.
I am going back,
To the place I hold so dear.
It is a Love-Dome,
My sweet home.
As always the warmth of love,
Will be spread all around.
A few lost people,
Will again be found.
Time to take a nap,
In my mother’s lap.
Time to take a tip,
From my father’s LIFE-SLIP.
Whole world one may roam,
But there’s no place like home.
Old memories may perish,
But there will be new ones to cherish.
It is an auspicious date,
Inspite of having come so late.
But it is all worth the wait…
Yes, being back in one’s home.

Battlefront of Life

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

Another one bites the dust,
Big bad politics is the crust.
In an endless fight,
No solution is in sight.
Across boundaries on this soil,
Soldiers continue to toil.
For ones fallen asleep,
Families continue to weep.
Hole of life is so deep,
Problems continue to creep.
Use of the gun,
We need to shun.
The crop of tranquility,
We need to grow.
Ever since that shell fell,
Broken limbs have a story to tell.
Preach only love and no hate,
We master our fate.
Life has no compromises to make,
Only to give, none to take.

Life : Live it forever

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

Sing and dance,
As one life is your only chance.
Eat, drink and sleep well,
Before death rings the bell.
Live your way,
Whatever others may say.
Read and use your mind,
Will never lag behind.
Life is an ultimate game,
Earn name and fame.
Toil hard in the battlefield,
Immense satisfaction it will yield.
Promises should not be made,
As they quickly fade.
Help those in need,
Stay away from lust and greed.
So many people play a part,
In life’s end to start.
Be on your toes,
For tests life may pose.
Since gone are the days,
When one says,
Life is what it is meant out to be.

Can I come in

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

Scorching heat of the sun,
Informed us summers had begun.
As heat grew day by day,
A sparrow told us she was here to stay.
So there it lay,
A nest made of hay.
But we destroyed her home,
To keep her at bay.
She kept making a request,
Not to destroy her nest.
From sunrise to sunset,
She took our stern test.
As she continued to beg,
To lay her dear-to-heart egg.
But she used to make such a mess,
As if she cared no less.
We were united in this case,
Arrived at a punishment,
Which she had to face.
Look for a home outside home,
And end this troublesome spree.
She has solved them to a degree,
Now lives in our mango tree!

Mystique Presence

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

Watching her eyes glow,
Adrenaline really begins to flow.
Her curves are so neat,
My heart does skip a beat.
A soft touch,
Means so much.
A deep insight,
Reveals her internal might.
She has that all,
To have a person fall.
She moves around,
With a beautiful sound.
Is adored a lot,
For she is so hot.
Am told by my mind,
Someone like her is HARD to find.
I stare,
At her charm and flair.
On that lovely day,
Upon her when I lay,
Heard the salesman say:
Keep your hands away,
First better pay.
My second test drive to rejoice,
A Cool Rolls-Royce!


a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

Turning right by the traffic-light,
Saw a beggar in my sight.
Unique in his own right.
As God was not so kind,
For he was blind.
Nothing to hide,
He had a board by his side.
Instructions of which,
All donors had to abide.
Anything less than rupee one,
He would shun.
Checking my wallet,
I realised,
Beggar could give a curse.
By giving a 50-paise coin,
Things could get worse.
Aware that he could not see,
I thought it was meant to be,
And donated the handsome fee.
But to my utter surprise,
Beggar turned out to be more wise.
I saw him rise,
Said staring at my brown eyes,
“I am blind by profession,
But why are you turning blind?”

The Cable Guy

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

If you want,
A connection of the cable.
Ignoring the grant,
Put the money on the table.
Getting that cash,
He will be fresh as a daisy.
Running away in a flash,
Dismisses rumours of being lazy.
The very next week,
He brings the cable wire.
Seeing me lose my temper,
Assured entertainment would set fire.
Connection having been done,
it was time to have some fun.
Switched on the cable,
Only to see T.V’s label.
Unable to watch a football game,
My hands were running cold.
Signal was a bit low,
Only to be later told.
In many ways,
Monthly cable only runs for five days.
Was face to face with fate,
When told about,
The very slight increment in the cable rate.

God – Face to face

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

Why is it,
That I pray to Him.
Knowing fully well,
Chances to physically meet are very slim.
It is then,
That I realise;
God has been so wise.
To sail through,
Life’s times good and bad;
He presented every child with a dad.

Coloured Thoughts

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

When the life’s sky is crystal blue;
Difficulties to surpass are very few.
Venture into the jungles green,
Nowhere is the jealousy seen.
No grudges in wee times black,
A little stubbornness is what we lack.
Never give me red;
For it reminds of the dead.
Gulp the chocolates brown;
And remember the swiss town.
Or a desi orange;
Be it as a lozenge.
Start the day with events yellow;
Else fart alongside another fellow.
Do use the tissues pink,
Or else the air will stink.
Preach tranquillity and preserve white,
Progress is then within sight.
High alert when hair turn grey;
An old man let the people say,
For you are that ornament gold;
Great qualities of which can never be sold.
The cousin of red is colour maroon;
Has become a ‘cosmetic-king’ so soon,
So much of colour in one’s life!

Sail On

a poem by Nikhil Chandhok

In the ocean of life,
There’s so much to explore.
So much to adore,
Everyone’s on a voyage,
Oh explorer! You sail on…
Many new things,
You are bound to discover.
Moments that you’ll cherish,
For now and forever.
Everyone’s on a voyage,
Oh explorer! You sail on…
This ocean is,
A never ending mystery.
But one has to be a part of it,
Plan future, escort present.
And rest is history.
Everyone’s on a voyage,
Oh explorer! You sail on…
Overcome the troubled weather,
And the sickness of the sea.
A lot of answers,
You need to gather.
How adventurous life would be!
Everyone’s on a voyage,
Oh explorer! You sail on…