From the T'roor Fan Club

From the T'roor Fan Club

After international adulation

He came back to serve the nation;

But the politics of desi ghee

For him didnt quite agree

And he feared imminent isolation.

So he started to tweet

Messages, short and sweet,

And followers he gained

He was their messiah ordained

And Twitter became his daily retreat.

Breezy with his words

The King of Clubs of nerds,

He was irreverent and witty,

Twitter-folks his community,

The parliament was for the birds.

By his tweety slip of tongue

Many a surprise he sprung,

Like that one about cattle-class

Which displeased not just his party brass,

Giving him a taste of political cattle-dung.

Living a protected, charmed life

He emerged alive from every strife,

His face ever aglow

He loved his daily show,

And relished his twitter butter knife.

But yes, this boy, Tharoor

A saab, Haan Jee huzoor,.

Had this one thingy-thing

He went ding-a-ling-a-ling,

For pretty things, to be sure

And so his tweets didn't bare all,

For instance there was this doll

Sunanda was her name

His newest-hottest flame

With whom he was having a ball.

It's rumored she runs a spa

For sheiks and starlets, oh yeah!

Sounds rather hoity toity

And somewhat naughty naughty

But it sure ain't anything too raw.

Her hair dyed like the Tricolor

She's a mover, baby, not a scholar

She oozes come hither looks

When she ain't cooking the books

She loves India, I'll bet you a dollar

She's a good gal who avoids felons

Tho' she looks like the Cabaret star Helen

You can see her at the Oberoi

And at the Burj in Dubai

Or tweet her @ItsLikeMelons

So in this salubrious duty free port

With his gal, he was about to disport

When she put her head on his seena

And asked the fee for her paseena

Sure, babe, he said to his Kashmiri comfort

While caught in this heady spell

Came the Kochi IPL,

And his private Pushkar Mela,

Became a public jhamela,

And heaven suddenly became hell.

The Knives were quickly out

There was hardly any doubt

Except in his mind

And in his faithful twitter-kind

That this bout would see his rout.

He fought hard, kill-or-die,

But found no real ally,

He got booed off from the floor,

His own folks pointed him the door,

And finally he had to eat humble pie.

But in this loss is surely a gain,

That with this political stain,

In the parliamentarians' zone

He's accepted as one of their own,

A crucial win in his career campaign.

Much remains to be seen;

He's no political has-been

He's no Keralite son of the soyil

To get stuck with Cock a nut Oyil

He'll soon be back in Delhi and in pastures green.

---- Lakshmi

An Excellent poem from poet extraordinaire

__._,_