Rishi Tiwari Kushagra
It's All About Money, Honey! - Poem by Rishi Tiwari Kushagra
Its 2: 30 in the night,
And I am still studying,
Burning my eyeballs,
So I would earn some money.
For all the past years my parents kept me telling,
This year is the most crucial year of your life honey,
Work hard, so you can have lots of money,
I believed them with all my heart,
And I kept working and didn't even fart,
My legs ached and my hips parted,
I got fat and my youth departed.
Someday I believe I'll get rid of all this,
And I'll be earning lots of money,
And I'll be working for some BPO or Corporate tycoon (the guy who
worked for himself) ,
And they will be paying me so much that I can go and come back from moon.
I'll be working from 9 till 11 at night,
And will come to my flat and eat anything that smells right,
I won't compromise with my sleep, as I have to get up at 5,
5? You say `why'?
Sweetie, the reporting time is 9 but you need 2 hrs for being a man,
Then, one day, my parents will tell me its time now, and I should marry,
As having so much money with a bachelor is a risk too risky to carry,
So I will ask for `permission' from my boss to marry,
And then mom will show photos of beautiful girls
And ask me, which one of them you like cherry…
What the hell! I don't know any of them but still I have to choose,
The temptation is too much to resist and I am confused,
Mom, can't I have all of them, say one by one or together if they please,
And they can be the owners of my parts, say head or even leg piece.
And now the oldies will be very happy,
As they have now a game to play,
They won't hear my say,
'Coz their fathers didn't hear their say.
The Stars will jump back to action,
And pundits will make a run,
And I would be loosing my sleep thinking if she is Pamela Anderson or
I agree and then the educational qualities of the female are analyzed,
Degrees are produced as if I keep an employee,
It is usually found that she is qualified enough to be married and is
And can work for her and the kids if I get myself killed.
So, she comes and becomes the owner of a hefty bank balance, car and a
decent flat in one stroke,
She pays the price for it by being `tagged',
She looses her surname (as if she cared) and her identity,
Which she will tell you every time you go to bed.
Now, she wants kids, those short noisy, pesky human beings in house,
One is ok,
Two is warranty,
Three is guarantee,
And four is almost an investment-cum- insurance.
Kids are cute and jolly, and I end up loving them,
And there I go my friends, in my car, now working for `them',
So dear friends, you are saving money not for you but for your wife,
And will be earning and saving, hoping one day to buy some life,
But life can never be bought, you will realize later in life,
When you won't be having... `THAT' charm for life…
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