Author: Ms Swapna Tiwari, Educator
Oh hail the sport of gossip grand,
The noblest pastime in the land!
Where whispers grow and morals shrink,
And halos tarnish in a wink.
Why face a friend and speak your mind,
When shade is thrown from far behind?
Much safer, too, to spread some spice—
Truth’s overrated; lies are nice.
To meddle is a gift divine,
A nosy nose in every line.
Who needs consent or quiet grace,
When you can snoop through every case
Label them! It saves the brain—
Why learn their story? Too much strain.
And judging? Ah, a royal skill,
No need for facts—just gut and will.
Sit on your throne, decree their fate,
Who cares if you just speculate?
It bonds us too—this sacred rite,
Of dragging names in day or night.
It fuels our chats, our smug delight,
While claiming we are always right.
So raise a toast, ye moral scouts,
To whisper wars and baseless doubts.
The world is best when viewed askance—
Now join the hypocrites’ dance!
