Climbing up


I climb up the steep slope of Belred*

Morning dew still heavy in the air

Dark grey sky peeks through firm fir trees

Workday is as foreboding as the dark pregnant clouds


* Belred is the name of a street in Redmond




Happy New Year


I am not an artist, nor
can I say nice little things
When it comes to expression
I am plagued by shortcomings


The new year kindles creation
of lovely songs and poetry
Greeting cards are exchanged
that are real works of artistry


Amidst such a commotion
I find it a little queer
that all I have, to say, is
Happy New Year!


It's not the words nor pictures -
that I care - not even the New Year
I need but an excuse to write
to the ones I remember!



Abhay B. Joshi

December 1993




Welcome to the 50s


We were once little kids

Growing on dosa, upama and cheese

We played, fooled n frolicked

Life was but a breeze


As grown-ups we knew no bounds

We roamed like wild geese

Collecting degrees, going places

We even tried some biz


Now it's time to bat steady

Not lose the wicket and stay at the crease

On with adventures but temper it

my friend, welcome to the fifties!



Abhay B. Joshi





I was too used to hectic mornings and rushed evenings
Phone calls were common and so were the meetings
People walked in my office and said hello Sir
Oh those hats I wore: manage, engineer and mentor
But that is now all past and history
I face a new chapter of possibilities and mystery
It is heart-breaking to let go the activity and fun
Then again, the future could be even more wanton
For now I am taking it cool and easy
And making no effort to rush it and get busy
Letting every moment come, tease me and torment
Immersing in it with no analysis or judgment



Abhay B. Joshi