Well, the other day on the occasion of Swami Vivekananda's birthday, the honourable Dr. A P J Abdul Kalam was to grace our institute with his presence. However, due to his "prior arrangements", he came almost two hours late. Seeing as I had time to waste, I wrote this little ode:
The hall is big, enormous, huge,
Full, but empty of Him,
Scanned time and again for subterfuge,
We wait, our thoughts go dim.
An air-conditioned room, I'll admit, is nice,
But it's kinda lost its charm, after
Two hours of slowly turning to ice -
A true Bond recipe for disaster.
They say he's comin' in by 'copter
A white-maned crusader of Creativity and Power,
But I wonder, can we present him the silver platter
When just to thaw our hands would require heat nuclear?
Time and again our hopes were raised,
For widespread applause rang through the hall;
'Twas but a false alarm. Him be flayed,
That damned little devil that started it all.
Sure he's a master - of rocketry and space -
And has, to his credit, a hundred odd crafts,
But now he's engineered an engine no other could replace -
A cryogenic type, of frozen human sculpts!
Hmmm... well, by this point our ex-president arrived and I never got to finish the epic. Never could pick up the rhythm later. Oh well, on to better insanities. :)
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"Run! The zombies are coming!"
