They said the theme is `Who am I?’
I thought about it, till my grey cells went dry
Inside my soul everything is grey, sleazy and full of greed
I said to myself, if I have to say, WTF – What to Fake.
I said to myself, WTF – Why Try and Fail
I decided to describe myself, front to hind.
I shall exercise discretion
So here goes the description
Scalp sparsely populated, the few available strands coloured.
Inside the scalp near vacuum
Eyes which never lie but full of sty
Ears which welcome complimentary stuff, to taunts they turn deaf.
Face Oily, Nose twiddly and Tongue loves it spicy
Neck lengthy, spondylosis its best buddy
Spine twisted, never in the presence of boss it is straightened.
Heart, full of sleaze, greed, and treachery.
Stomach ever ready, to devour a biryani.
Here, I shall exercise my discretion
Knees which are weak, creak and tweak in motion.
Feets which are very fleet, to run across the street, when wife comes to beat.
My inside story is mediocre
I’m hollow at the core
No six pack to make me a cynosure
You can now wake up from your snore
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Whom Am I?
One Question which will never get an honest answer
Never a question pleases anyone
Definitely not this one
Breathtaking it would be, if a pilot asked it mid-air.
Heart stopping it would be, if a surgeon asked it after opening a patient’s skull.
Refreshing it would be, if elected representatives asked themselves.
Soul slapping it would be, if freedom of speech walked up and asked those who get offended with it.
Fitting it would be, if calf asked the self appointed sons and daughters of `Gau Mata’.
Catastrophic it would be, Catastrophic it would be
If a husband angrily asked at the end of his wife’s shopping voyage.
