The woes of prosperity

The woes of prosperity

   (or “ a  few reasons not  to be rich”) 

Here's a bit of sarcasm.Got a bit inspired by Eunice D Souza, who was known for her caustic,unsentimental way of writing:

Having some money and being honest about it

Has its own set of perils;

The world has a magnanimous misconception about your generosity;

“Almost-ex"-wives, “ Friends”, Friends’ moms, Neighbours, Cousins.

Suddenly your warring spouse softens up,

And stops threatening imminent separation,

Happy with the spoils

Belted out by an indulgent hubby;

Intolerability turns into vacations together.

Except that you, wry old coot,

Know what is what.

A “ friend” belts out sugary paeans

Of closeness and comradeship,

No doubt to secure the loan

Taken from you while buying his shiny new car

Only to forget about it.

Another one asks for a loan

For a supposed “ emergency”

Which you later come to know

Was all cock and bull.

Thankfully, your dirty  suspecting mind

Saved you in time.

Your friend’s mom

Whines  on incessantly

About the loan she supposedly needs,

“ Will return it at the earliest, beta,

Have no worries  about that,”

Beta is bewildered

Whether to follow friendly vibes

Or the dark mind which smells a rat somewhere;

Were all the happy smiles and help

In the preceding few weeks

Merely a  prelude to this?

Mr.Long-lost cousin lands up

After twenty years,

Singing about the happy childhood days,

Making you  moist.

And then it hits-

“I feel so bad to ask you,but..

Could you lend me some money for my business?

Things are bad, you see,

The market has crashed,

Don’t you worry, I’ll return it at the earliest.”

You, old coot,know there’s a catch somewhere,

And politely decline.
Mr long-lost cousin promptly disappears
Probably for another twenty years.

Neighbours think you are Ambani’s son

And  a ready  Bank/ ATM machine;

You have to remind them politely

That you pay taxes like anyone else

And could yourself do with a  loan or two.

You wonder who is happier-

The fat old businessman on his gaddi,

Stingy, wry, suspecting,

No fools’ man;

Or the beggar on the street

Who really has nothing to give

And therefore no “ friends’?

Enjoying happy poverty,

Now you sit merrily,

Sans riches, sans “friends” and their moms,

Sans long-lost cousins and manipulative spouses,

But surrounded by the comfort of those handful few

Whom you truly and genuinely love.