Klash of the Konfessioners

August 31, 2010


Filed under: Uncategorized — The Musketeers @ 8:53 pm


(Entries Closed)

she·nan·i·gan \sha-na-ni-gan\ noun

  1. : a devious trick used especially for an underhand purpose
  2. : tricky or questionable practices or conduct —usually used in plural
  3. : high-spirited or mischievous activity —usually used in plural

Amandeep Parmar (121)

Purple oh purple
Why are you red
Black is your robe
White is your bed
Yellow’s your scythe
Pink is my head
Crumble I will
If I’m not shed

Faceless you were, and you are still
You are so royal, much less too loyal
Blinded you run, twisteth your toes
Fallen you are, on green turmoil
Thankless and shameless, revels your spill
Mourning your birth, is that blue pill?
You don’t spill red, you’re just a boil
Wrapped in your treachery, that colorful coil

Quiet in malice
You laugh at my dart
Racing through time
Your colorless cart
Shenanigans? oh grief!
Hoaxes and sounds of roguish mischief
Artful and guile, your trickery and slime
Like the endless rhythms of a beatless heart

Mandappa (107)

oh you holy one

sitting by the ganges
eyes sprouting red
lost from this eternal dread
what goes on in your head

of nirvana and philosophy
of worldly matters with ease?
and then you take my money
laughing like its funny
and thats when i realized

there is a shenanigan in you
just like the dead presidents hold on you
in this world full of good
there’s definitely a shenanigan in you

oh you glorious politician
i salute your promises with glee
words sprouting hope
as i hang on a rope
with you blowing smoke

there is a shenanigan in you
there’s definitely a shenanigan in you

ruSh.Me (104)

Little joys of life,
Little moments of pain.
Barbie has a broken neck,
Bhaiya, innocent but quiet,
Remorse, you have it?
Didi took care of the D-Minus,
A little scribble here, a dot there,
fetched you joy and glee.
Too much salt, no trace of sugar,
In jijaji’s tea.
Artless merchant undercharged, profit
To return or for keeps?
That innocuous sms,
Oh! That innocent, flirty sms, sent
To one who shouldn’t be.
Friend’s broken heart,
Served with beer and banter,
On the April fool’s Day.
Little joys of life,
Little moments of pain,
The random shenanigans,
Innocent or devious
Make it worth to stay.

Epili Sagar (123)

As she pressed their wedding photograph against her bosom, a tear escaped Evelyn’s eyes and trickled down her wrinkled cheek. Jacob had kissed her goodnight and quietly passed away a fortnight ago.

But her lips suddenly twitched as a smile full of memories tore through the pain. They had been childhood buddies who never thought they’d graduate into lovers. Until that night in senior year when, in good fun, they decided to break into a couples-only free-booze-for-all party. And then to look real had clasped hands and kissed before the bouncer. Oh, what youthful shenanigans! A kiss that throws hearts into knots.

Evelyn’s lips twitched again in anticipation. But the smile faded as it dawned on her that her kisser was no more.


Only emotion this word evoked was Melancholy. No thought could replace the image of Rajat’s saddened eyes since I read the word.
“‘Shenanigans,’ that’s a strange word, Raju.” I thought it meant some Japanese martial art.
“Honey, it’s an Irish word for pranks. That’s what our group does, plays pranks on people.” Their group was true to their name. Whole college dreaded their mischievous pranks. All five of them were thorough jokers. Their sight made me laugh.
“Say yes or I will jump” He was standing precariously on the ledge, strange spark in his eyes.”I’m not joking” he winked.
“No” I giggled, thinking it was his usual prank.
His saddened eyes were the last I saw of him.

Sarang Mahajan (120)

The dead play shenanigans,
When you least think they will
You misplace your book and whisper aloud
‘Is grandpa here, still?’

Those squabbles over the changed bookmarks
And over the stains of tea
You almost think those beady eyes
Still devour your books with glee

Those clumsy fingers ruffling the pages
When you would not be around
And holding the book away when you came
To leave you with a grunting sound

For a moment there, you don’t want the book
You look around and smile
But your misty eyes soon find it untouched
On a high, dusty pile

The dead play shenanigans,
When you least think they will
You take the book and say assured
‘Grandpa is here, still!’

Ruchika Bajoria (105)

Flowers falling softly
from heavily laden trees
Moppets playing hide and seek
like the florets in the trees

Sun baked earth
splitting into fissures
Urchins stealing fruits
as the guard lazes soporifically

Bright boats floating
in the muddy shallow pools
Children prancing around
to the falling rains song

Trees shed their burdensome leaves
and the lazy sun sleeps early
The children of the street, irreverently…
orchestrate music from crunching leaves

Snow laden houses
and the sun shrouded in obscurity
Impish squirts make snowmen
and go sleighing around trees

As the seasons change
the shenanigans evolve
The youth include nature
a silent ally in them all…

Priyanka (136)

Friday morning in the Chaks’ household:
8:30 a.m.: Mr. Chaks: Slow down girl, stand properly for your bath..baby..don’t let the water out…..(sigh)
9:30 a.m.: Mr. Chaks (while baby finds out that food flies better than an aeroplane): You have to eat your breakfast else we won’t take you out today evening.
To Mrs Chaks (in a growl): She’s not eating.
Mrs Chaks: It’s weekend, your turn to feed her breakfast.
Mr. Chaks: Humph!!
10:30 a.m.-1:00 p.m: Mr. Chaks (after baby has coloured the walls with different crayons, tried to jump from the dining table, picked out her dad’s razor to give herself a shave, etc etc etc): I haven’t had a smoke since morning…how do I keep up with her shenanigans….why can’t she behave herself?? What is all this?
Grandma Mrs. Chaks(very calmly): They are genes.


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