The Chef

a poem by Urmila Mahajan

An artistic chef from Madras,
Who resembled a snake in the grass,
Odd though he looked,
The dishes he cooked
Were of an incomparable class.

He had a constant craving for food
And demolished each morsel he could.
But a shortage of money,
(Which you know isn’t funny)
Gave his belly a rumble for good.

Food fantasies gave him pleasure,
Aromatic mirages were his treasure,
He made a grim vow
To accomplish somehow,
Culinary feats without measure.

He once returned a lost terrier,
To its owner who couldn’t be merrier,
The grateful man took
Him in as his cook,
It was the start of an illustrious career.

All the delicate treats he had dreamed up
He now boiled, roasted and steamed up.
He scaled dizzy heights
With his scrumptious delights
Especially the puddings he creamed up.

The hunger that had haunted his past,
Changed to greed, enormously vast,
With a soft ‘ayyayyo’,
And eyes all aglow,
He would munch through a massive repast.

Once a galloping greed overtook him,
And all his good senses forsook him
Swallowed cake and cherries-
Fresh cream and strawberries
Till his shocked friends violently shook him.

A disgusted spectator cried, ‘Why fill
Yourself so? This greed can’t you stifle?
Alas, our dear friend,
Came to an end.
Overdosed with his own fruit trifle.