Once upon a time there lived a boy called Obel
Who dreamed of getting a Nobel
So, he started on his journey
On his way he met Roni
And his path was no longer stony.
But this boy was a bit loony
So, he kept saying he doesn’t love Roni
This, to Roni, sounded very phony.
Then came the twist in the tale
There was this “intelligent” male
The male was Sanskrit and drank a lot of rum
He loved Roni more than his mum
He proposed to this little miss
But the blunder was he asked for a kiss.
Obel, who was in a lot of pain
Now, was back in form again.
The male avoided Roni and Obel
And in the process got the Nobel.
As for the little boy called Obel
Who had always dreamt of getting a Nobel
He sadly met a certain Bhaskar
And instead of a Nobel, he got an Oscar.

There was this boy called Obelisk
Whose life was like a compact disc.
He thought that dreams were black and white,
And on this, with Neeraja he had a fight.

Our hero was eating a biscuit,
And so was Obelisk,
Since both of them are the same,
This rhyme is very lame.

Obelisk thinks of what people say,
And interprets it in his own way,
And this makes him happy and gay,
Of which, happiness, tolerate we may.

I hope he gets some sense,
And stops saying the word “depends”,
But then, I wonder what he will say,
Because, ‘depends’ is his only way.