An Ode to Pappu
Strange law of nature and country,
Some rise by gravity, some fall by levity
By Mukesh Sharma
Chubby fair face,
A dimple on cheek,
Pappu, a quality hybrid,
Of Indo-Italian breed.
Kurta-pyjama clad,
Walks one hand in pocket.
Dada Firoz,
Maa Christian,
But he’s Janau-dhari Pandit.
Known in the world,
For doing nothing.
Thinks a little,
Before uttering something.
 |
| His Mama's Baby |
He recants and raves,
Unmindful of wrong or right,
He’s his mama’s ‘son’,
With flickering light.
He knows nothing,
About rhetoric or ethics,
But has mastered the art,
To lie through teeth.
With little knowledge,
Whatever he says.
Fondly it becomes,
Joke of the day.
Though just an MP,
His pile in crores.
Out on bail himself,
Calls Chowkidar Chor.
His mama’s most,
Pampered baby.
Boasts and bluffs,
Babble s like a crazy.
Battery of tutors,
Teach him ropes,
Still people feel,
He’s little hope.
He topped the exam,
As a single candidate,
Today of a family party,
He’s a preferential
president.
Breathing for its chief,
His party sneeze and
squeeze,
Above all dissension,
And discussion, he is.
His family members,
Do dribble and drool.
People of India,
Are nothing but fool.
His mama’s dearest wish,
And hearty pray.
May Pappu become,
PM one day.
Strange laws,
Of nature and country.
Some rise by gravity,
Some fall by levity.
