Of Rose-Tinted Glasses

Rose-tinted glasses we must don,
And play to the roses and of tulips of our gardens;
Pink parasols we must unravel,
And prance around in polka-dotted dresses;
To the filters of Instagram we swear by,
To the cat whiskers of Snapchat we must abide by,
To the salmons, avocados and asparagus we all owe,
Our eternal gratitude of cute videos.

Mushy love eulogies we must sing,
And compose social media paeans;
Cinderella dancing shoes we must slip into,
And waltz and whizz to urban ballads;
To bougainvillea-bedecked balconies we must testify,
To our sense of duty we must clap, clamour and cheer;
To the wayward and the pitiable on the streets,
We must teach a lesson in social distancing.

Rainy days and romances we must embrace,
And sing to our babies and plants;
Readers we must turn into,
And narrate verses and prose on Instagram;
To dalgona coffee and detox tea we must subscribe,
To kid-like baby voices we must resign,
To baby face moods and faux self pity we must assign,
Our collective guilt of ignorance.

Salon orgasms and Italian vacays we must crave for,
But dress up in travel pants;
And in satin bathrobes and neon flip-flops,
In remembrance of the once sacred;
To strawberry mousse and virgin beeswax we must owe,
Our out-of-bed looks,
To the mute hairdresser and pedicurist,
Oh, we pay them well, you see;
Gallons of hand-wash bottles,
We must splash in joy;
And slather our floors with,
For treadmills and jogging away.

Our princes and princesses tour our villas,
Oh, how adorable;
In international chic and rockstar cool,
Well, the pandemic is another story in waiting.

Eat, pray, love we must,
In the forever lite of life;
The Varsity of Hope beckons,
Woe be gone; we will tide over COVID-19
Bon voyages be the mood of future,
Cycling on the track cut out in our endless garden,
Of trees and rows of pristine flower,
Is a privilege we have earned.

Our kids will learn the accent,
The tone and tenor of luxury;
For to the riches they are born,
Oh no, to say nepotism is anti-national, you silly
For the world is still rosy,
Pink and cheerful;
As long as there is the vodka martini,
And a salsa salad to boost
For we are not demi-gods for nothing,
We are the idols of glamour and sheen;
It’s for something that we preen,

The world is our oyster; serve me the caviar, honey,
We must continue to teach and preach,
In ads, posters and hoardings;
On the radio, TV and Internet,
As to show is the way to be seen
We are the spectacle of urbanity,
The bold and the beautiful;
The body and the brain,
Behind sanitised morals and silken souls
We, who are born free,
We, who are the pretty and powerful;
We must abide by our Constitution of Celebdom,
And strive to tell anecdotes of our agents and managers
For beauty is our conscience,
And cleanliness our birthright;
To each her own,
We are a minority in our right.

To unending glamour we must pledge,
To uninterrupted cool we must pledge;
We will write a COVID-19 monologue,
And sell it with pandemic hashtags
We are the ambassadors of goodwill,
Smile they must to fulfill the promise;
We are the lesson; we are the fruits;
Toil they must to fill our suits

Sanhati Banerjee is a Kolkata-based independent journalist.

Featured image credit: Ryoji Iwata/Unsplash