My Big Papa

As life goes on, he lives the day

In the same old, confident way

Sorrow and Joy, he has gone through,

For him, there is nothing new.

The round bald pate, his elegant gait,

The cherubic face which smiles at fate

The belly so round, you got to go around

Like my Big Papa, there is none to be found

Around the world, he constantly flies,

He eats everything, beef or rice.

He has everything but weaknesses few,

Music and wealth are included too.

The smile so big, hides a lot

A million problems that he has got

But all that is, just washed away

When my Big Papa, talks all day.

Incredible seems, the knowledge he has

Of subjects, astronomy or jazz,

Be it medicine, dancing or just fruits,

Or aircraft, balloons or parachutes

The jokes he tells, like rivers do flow,

Most are naughty, a few mellow. 

He is unforgettable. Oh! He is so fine.

Who else but this Big Papa of mine

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My first ever attempt at putting together similar sounding words or rhyming words, basically verses which I call Poems. These verses were written sometime in the year 1981-82 about late S Ramachandran, my father’s eldest brother. He was an expert on Matches (the incendiary ones!!) and set up match factories in Egypt, Afghanistan, Nepal and even in Western Samoa. I was paid a princely sum of Rs 100 for writing these verses glorifying him (he said so himself).