Hangout

My medium sized VIP was hanging out in the sun,

When Dhobi Chacha hung near me an XL sized one.

What brand is it, mine wondered? Must be a firang,

Surely with Stars & Stripes spangled, must be American.

With a Bald Eagle patch on the crotch,

Surely he belonged to someone top notch.

Mine asked the biggie neighbor, “How’d?

Who does belong this undie?”

With tear drops dripping, he said in pain,

“I once belonged to the US Presiden’.”

Now I’m old and used, so was thrown away,

Landed in India as aid and now am here to stay”.

How does it feel to be the undies of the Most Powerful Man?

You too must be revered as much as the clan.

Yeah t’was nice to be under the Don,

With so many of us around, was hardly ever worn.

But yeah I was so much cared and protected,

Not hanging out alone like this, badly neglected.

Tell me some tales O Ye Undies of the Lord,

Of how you felt and what you saw and heard.

Ho! Ho! Ho! What a wonderful time I had,

Living beneath the man with golden locks on his head.

If you promise to hangout with me Mate

I’ll tell ya some secrets of the Head of the State.

I knew whenever came home Mr. Vladamir Putin,

For the man would go so cold within.

Often felt him shivering and sweating,

Afraid of some tales gettin’ leaking.

“I know what you did last summer Don,

Now no more games with us Ruskies”, he’d warn.

The Big Man always got excited with Ms. Clinton,

He could never hide his elation.

Every muscle of his would get taut,

The Raging Bull was ready for a bout.

“We shall make America great again,

Build wall, stop émigrés, reverse Obama care”, he’d be shoutin’.

But the best was reserved for Kim Jong,

Now the gong would really go ding dong.

Agitated and mad for sure he would be,

Ready for war and bring the Mad King to his knee.

“Don’t show me you’re middle finger O Ye Fool,

I’d nuke you outta this world,” said Prez , not so cool.

And then there was this funny bearded Harappan man from the East

Who would come often, would speak a lot but wouldn’t feast.

We were always afraid of his coming up and close,

For he’d hug the Prez so hard that crushed me and my resident folks.

We cried,“Bring Acche Din in your own land if you can”,

“Your thepla, fafda, dhokla we’ll bear but just keep out your huggin’ Man.”

Don’t ask me what happened at night,

I’m still bound by Official Secrets Act.

Even though am in a forlorn land,

Hanging out with a Mr. Nobody’s jocks on a stand.

Am an emotional knick with loads of tales to state,

But for now stand still My Hangout Mate.

And sing with me the Star Spangled anthem!

SS

PS. This modified limerick is written in good humour and not to hurt any sentiments or show any disrespect towards anybody. Hope my readers take it in the right spirit.