Mock Epic: The Whisper That Ruled The World Poem by ashok jadhav

Sing, O Tongue, swift herald of half-truths,
Of Gossip, winged commander of our fates,
Whose murmurs, light as dust on window sills,
Can topple peace and crown the undeserved.
She was not born in thunder or in flame,
But slipped to life between two sipping cups,
In kitchens warm and corridors of shade,
Where idle moments beg to be filled.
Small was her voice, yet sharp her listening ear;
She fed on pauses, sighs, and lifted brows.
One word she took—no more than "Did you know? "
And clothed it richly in imagined silk.
Another ear received it, wide with awe,
Then passed it on, enlarged, adorned, assured.
Thus grew the tale, like snowball down a hill,
From pebble-truth to avalanche of "fact."
Soon Gossip marched through offices and homes,
A general no gate could hope to bar.
Friend turned from friend, and lovers paused to doubt,
While innocence stood trial without defense.
No oracle was asked, no witness called—
The whisper wore the mask of certainty.
Kings fell without a blade being drawn;
Queens wept at rumors sharper than cold steel.
Reputations, built with patient years,
Collapsed like tents before a sudden wind.
And Gossip smiled, unseen, unpunished still,
For none could trace the first betraying breath.
At last came Silence, cloaked in heavy calm,
Too late, too slow, too rarely invited.
Truth followed limping, bruised by many tongues,
Arriving after damage had been done.
So heed this epic, Reader of quick ears:
The smallest word may write your destiny.
For fate is not always forged by gods—
Sometimes it's whispered, smiling, over tea.