In India on a golf course so beautiful

Was a young boy of five – very playful

With golf, Bablu was infatuated a great deal

A fast learner, followed the game with zeal

His dad was an excellent caddy, all told

He played on Mondays and was a treat to behold

Those days, he loved to go along with his dad

He too tried his hands at driving and chipping, not bad!

On tournament days local, his dad caddied for a rich man always

Helped the guy in upping his game in many ways

At a distance Bablu remained, watched every shot attentively

Finer nuances of the game, he was quick to learn selectively

One day, the rich guy heaved a swing powerful

But instead of North, the ball went East, dreadful!

Went like a missile misguided, hit a cow’s head

Grazing lazily out of bounds and then hit a gull dead

Could not help it, Bablu let go a guffaw loud

Holding his midriff tight, he laughed aloud

The man’s face turned red with anger extreme

Walked threateningly towards Bablu with a scream

The big man was upon the boy in a flash

Caught hold of his collar, ‘Bablu, you tyke, good for nothing brash!’

And twisted his ears and gave him a whack with a sting

Bablu felt bad, punished for someone else’s poor swing!

His dad transferred to another golf course

Bablu went along to play his favourite sport, of course

His game bloomed further as he grew up 

The drive, the chip, the fade, the draw and more, yup!

As luck would have it, a golfer noticed his genius

Financially helped him and took him under his aegis

Within months his handicap was zero

At fifteen, he became a professional, a hero!

He was Bashir now, climbed rapidly through the ladder 

India’s One in quick time, he was gladder 

His name and fame went far and wide

He earned a lot of money, his dad’s pride!

To play in PGA, was now his aim

Outstanding Bashir earned lot of fame

With the best in the world to compete

Travelled a lot, his game was now complete

One tour win was followed by another

His name and glory went farther

People were comparing him to Tiger Woods of yore

His ability to escape from precarious positions, was now a lore

Held in India, a major tournament for first time

Bashir grabbed the chance, he was now in his prime

He excelled and won by three strokes

A great honour, in front of the home folks

Many Indians had thronged, dodging the barricades

To cheer him up and shower accolades

His parents and his mentor beside him

The cup and check received, his pride filled upto the brim

For his autograph, many a fans crowded him 

One of them was the big man who had whacked him

Bashir signed on his book ‘Bablu’, plain

The man almost fainted and his face turned red again!