Nero’s guests have lost their soul,
Longing for aid they now play a mere role.
Every day, we are made aware of another Lajwanti,
Bearing sorrows that the society gave her in plenty.
And yet we are convinced of love at first sight,
We are found taking chances of plight.
Scientific religion is the new talk,
Depleting brotherhood is this very walk.
In every match of life we are deceived by umpiring,
Each time one tries to change, there’s more conspiring.
I would go on to portray the entire drama,
Over a cup of south Indian filter coffee with Amma.
Even then we’ll never be able to follow our vows,
Sigh! Will we ever revive my Grandmother’s house?