There was once a creature named Pumaa,
Who wore a simple suti sari,
Some may call it old and tattered,
But she wore it with a sense of pride.
She moved around preaching to the world,
On topics ranging from the sun to the moon,
But remained a pathetic doormat at home,
Used, trod on and discarded at will. Like toilet paper almost.
Every opportunity saw a new journey and a new purpose,
With a new partner and new folks around,
Who'd be abandoned in a jiffy without a glance behind,
The second her loved abusers so wished.
Yet, she remained elated and festive,
Amidst the taunts, insults, and manipulation galore,
And didn't forget to pass on a fair share of it,
To unsuspecting fools of the world.
So who are we to judge,
As to when her star will fade,
Because for a trashbag to wear a suti sari,
Is in itself a big upgrade.
Cricket
