Bozo Royale

Bozo, Mumbai's only dog-with-his-own-blog, is in a good mood.  The rains have gone, taking the terrible thunder and lightening with them,  not to mention the puddles and wet everywhere. 

There is a nip in the air early mornings, the balcony is fragrant with the various plants, and it is once again fun to spend time wandering about the house, checking up on stuff, breathing in the gardens , peering into the kitchen, and scratching on the sofa leg to catch the attention of Magiceye, who is actually smitten with a certain twowheeler these days .

Even then, Bozo's cheerfulness must have been contagious, because he happily clicked him in his favourite domain....

You know,
some are born kings,
some strive to become kings,
and
some have kingship
thrust upon them.

(I've heard the
then young fellow
read this
ages ago
while doing his essay....)

I was born
far from any palaces,
in the midst of chaos,
got mixed up
and ran with the wild.

Kings don't do that.

These Dada dogs
troubled me,
teaching me all the tricks,
till
a little girl took me home.

This doesn't happen to Kings.

But here I am,
so many years later,
freshly bathed,
brushed,
a bit of exercise
and a satisfying grub,
in a cool balcony
away from the October heat.

I breathe in deeply
the perfume of roses and tulsi,
and wheatgrass
and  hibiscus,
mixed with
the aroma of cooking;
I acknowledge my
flying subjects,
who look on from the window ledge,
and I sit, stretch and sneeze
whereupon,
someone rubs my back, tickles me
and says "God bless you!"

If that is not about
kingship of this jungle
being thrust upon you,
I don't know
what is !