Tag: Kani Kadal

The Woman in the Dabb*

Rub –a- dub- a- dub, one woman on the dabb*.1 
Absently, she gives her Pinocchio nose a rub.  
Is she waiting for some mouth-watering grub?
The belligerent woman smug in the snug dabb.  

That woman always strikes a quarrelsome pose.  
A contemplative finger perched on her nose, 
conferring with cacophonously cawing crows 
sitting on the boundary wall in rows and rows.  

Nay, I plead guilty to the crime of mendacity. 
But, no way am I refuting the crows’ garrulity.
Then, there were no walls etched with bellicosity. 
Those times were marked by back-slapping hilarity.   

But, my kid brother was a very mischievous sort, 
raising a hue and cry when in the slips caught. 
This budding cricketeer with everyone fought, 
Saddled with a sharp tongue and a temper hot. 

Not friends with the shrewish woman in the dabb 
who had one eye cocked towards our respected Bub*.2 
Brother’s sixer caught the woman’s nose in the dabb.
Profanities followed from the woman in the snug dabb.

Cursing the ball, the boy and the corollary disgraced, 
she flailed her pheran-clad arms, singing her own praises.
She had a penchant for evocative Kashmiri phrases, 
a rich vocabulary of intriguing phonetic cadences.  

Alas, the ball had created a dent in her Pinocchio nose. 
Kashmiri expletives freely flowed; belligerent her pose.
Now, Naseem, the woman, was ready to come to blows. 
She rolled up her pheran sleeves, bracing to give a dose

Of her tongue to my brother, who had dented her nose. 
In a fiery temper vile, no longer could she lie in repose.
Salman, his buddy, said, “You should try giving her a rose. 
Quipped my brother, “Will she accept it despite a broken nose?”  

Strange but true, after hours two, the team was in her dabb.
Rohit, Sarju, Ashok, Kuku, Salman, Irfan and a doting Bub,   
breaking bread; of cherry chuckles, the dabb was now a hub.
Kandurvaan ki roti*3and kehwa*4 and mouthwatering grub.

Down below, the houseboat-dotted Jhelum happily roared.  
Over bellicosity and grudges, love had once again scored. 
From the pine tree the golden oriole its melody poured.
Grudges and spats had once again been wisely ignored.   

The languorous traffic swirled on the ancient Kani Kadal.* 5
Soon, some little folks and a woman were in a group huddle.
Suddenly a cry of ‘Howzat?’  went up like a lilting song. 
The woman smiled, her voice ringing like a dinner gong: 

“Gobra*6, thankfully, you broke my nose, not my heart.” 
Eyes twinkling, she said with a chuckle, a hand on heart. 
Now, my kid brother mends hearts, does not break noses. 
Violence, and heartlessness, this cardiologist heartily opposes.   

With a smile, he often recalls that woman in the dabb.  
He grins as he glimpses her giving her Pinocchio nose a rub.
The woman is now history; for my brother it is a mystery
whether she really carried a torch for our beloved bub.
That affectionate pheran-clad woman in the snug dabb.
 


 *1 Dabb*: A mini balcony with a protruding ledge in old houses in Kashmir. 
*2 Bub:   An affectionate term for an elderly person, [short for Babuji] 
*3 Kandurvaan ki roti: Baker’s Bread. 
*4 Kehwa: Milk less tea garnished with cardamom, crushed almonds, and cinnamon powder [[saffron optional]        
*5 Kani Kadal: The name of a bridge in Srinagar, Kashmir 
*6 Gobra:  A Kashmiri term of endearment for a child.