Celebrities

By Aditya Faujdar

They trot on carpets of velvet,

Their steps measured and bodies set,

No signs of nerves they never fret,

All moves measured, all standards met.

Hands clasped either front or behind,

Swinging by the side or aligned,

With the body, no flaw to find,

Small details are also defined.

Faces set in permanent smiles,

Hair adorned in infinite styles,

Not one wrinkle, no sign of trials,

The gleam and vigour obtained from vials.

Clothes more fitting than people’s skin,

Glowing jewellery and satin,

Muscles that bulge and waists so thin,

How could they not be divine kin?

Origins so aptly fitting,

The Fate’s ashamed of their knitting,

A tragedy, a fall, a rise, an inspiration,

Prospect of universal vindication.

But some flaws creep through,

The stress behind the symmetry,

The machine serving mystery,

Barely hiding their history,

We celebrate their victory.

They may be heroes on the screen,

On talk shows, their feathers they preen,

But the puppets serve the machine,

Ignorance keeps their records clean.

Wake up, see the cracks on display,

Hear the dark truths they often say,

Wake up and see that they’re not gay,

They’re not happy, they’re almost fey.

Lust for fame wakes them every day,

They sell their souls so that you may,

Be kept under their master’s sway,

One rung above you they will stay.

For that vainglory, in this way,

They poison your mind, and never pay.

By Aditya Faujdar