Tuesday, November 22, 2016

The Tata Mistry Brawl

A public brawl is always fun,
Panders to the voyeur in us;
Nothing like watching someone else,
making a perfect ass of themselves!

Two drunks roll on the pavement,
Virile young men use their fists,
Hysterical women pull hair,
Middle aged South Indians glare!

The Sardar pulls out his kirpan,
Mallu hoists lungi in the air,
The Bong maintains a safe distance,
The Gujju growls from inside his lair!

But these executives take the cake,
With their slanderous ways of war;
Each of the charges they now make:
As if things were different before!

They just discovered to their shock,
That the other fellow's a cheat;
Two Emperors without any clothes:
now children, calling each others' bluff!

Everyone likes to watch a strip show,
but aged corporate males are not done;
it not only excites no one, 
but thoroughly shames the clowns!

Corporate governance is a joke,
Truth and fairness is but a myth;
Shareholders' trust resides in the Board,
in whose eyes, they do not exist!

Cosy club of red-carpet dwellers,
with lots of dirt brushed under;
They are all always holier-than-thou,
Patronising us from far above!

Time we threw the pedestals away,
Recognise everyone has feet of clay;
Each of us may be exposed one day:
Can we stand naked without shame?

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