I was strict with hygiene, even drank Listerine I felt soiled by family members too. My mind was melancholic and my hands alcoholic Even soap would just not do.
Then from above came a call Go inject Lysol Like an addict I searched Amazon I ordered fine needles for pricks In packets of six Before long they were used and gone.
I trusted that voice, Anyway, I had no choice Hoping a remedy was now at hand Too many had died, But he prophesied He knew exactly the cure and the brand.
Don’t think like docs, Unshackle those locks In your hands is the cure, pure and sure. It’s nothing exotic, No lab will stock it But it is there in all Mom ‘n’ Pop stores.
If a Lysol drop Makes for a lethal house mop You can bet it’ll zap Covid-19. And before you know it And I promise to show it Your “old normal” will be back on the screen.
I may look on edge, I may seem dense But I see a glow in Trump and Pence. They don’t fudge knowledge Like those kids from college And journos from CNN.
I readied the needle I lay on my couch This job was serious and no time to slouch. I pierced my skin Pumped Lysol in. The relief was quick, as was the prick And I could feel the wellness begin.
Now I drift hither and thither, Floating on ether Can’t track anybody I know I turned every stone, I was seriously alone With nary a friend or foe.
I see Earth from afar, Like another planet or star. Not missing the stalls or the malls. Because I was brave I have been happily saved By nourishing cans of Lysol.
Lysol! Lysol! Lysol!!
Limericks
Today Dipankar was trembling with excitement He was stepping out to dump garbage from his basement He had just this one shot To look chic, smart and hot Before the lockdown put him back in his apartment.
There are new laws that you must meet Break them and you will face the heat Now nose ‘n’ mouth are private parts Even if this breaks a hundred hearts You must cover them when on the street
Hegel said Marx was up to his tricks Stuffing folks with his silly dialectics As proof he claimed That Marx be blamed For making “Synthesis” look like synthetics.
When Hegel and Marx met Lenin The heavens hadn’t heard such a din Big words flew like blows Their meaning? No one knows. Even God was left scratching his chin
Hegel said, “Karl, I’ll have you know, I never thought you could fall so low. For me, it’s the Spirit Developing on its merit But you let Workers take over the show.”
There was sadness on the face of Xi Ping By centuries he had missed being a Ming So he let loose a virus In order to inspire us To worship him like he was king
“Citizenship” was strolling in the park And didn’t notice it had become dark As he rounded a bush “Multiculturalism” gave him a push And took his bite away from his bark.
Scientists’ Brag: You were happy with caste, class and race But Covid knows neither status nor place. It randomly roams Invading all homes Leaving sociologists with a disjointed face.
Sociologists’ Response: When Covid-19 ravaged country and town Papers were written by scientists renown But they overlooked its attacks On poor, Hispanics and Blacks Which is why you need sociologists around.
I wish I were a scholar renowned Easily keeping ear to the ground. But as I have this natural flair Of keeping my nose in the air This exercise gets anatomically unsound
I gazed out of my window, missing my walks. Envied a little birdie, rustling the stalks. As if reading my thought She said, “Quarantine or not, I maintain social distance from Hawks.”
Dipankar Gupta is a sociologist. He is the author of, among other titles, Q.E.D.: India Tests Social Theory and Checkpoint Sociology: A Cultural Reading of Policies and Politics
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