Four Glasses Down

I don’t speak on behalf of all the Indian males this country has to boast. I wouldn’t even dream of being that knowledgeable or prejudiced to generalize a statement. But in my limited experience with such incidences, I have found that such cases are unfortunately very common. The perfect gentleman can rapidly disintegrate to reveal a ruffian of the worst sort when plied with a drink or four. The same protective male relations can cast a dirty eye on their pretty relatives in such a state. In some cases, I think that alcohol is just an excuse to do as they please. This little rant erupted from my pen after watching such “gentlemen” make a spectacle of themselves this past weekend. It filled me with disgust to see this repulsive side of them in a span of mere four hours.

The perfect gentleman,
He says all the right words
And makes all the right moves.
His chivalry and gallantry
Puts him far above any reproofs.
Courteous to a fault,
Gracious in forgiving.
His big generous heart knows
Only the joy of cheerful giving.
But when the lights are out
He sheds all inhibitions.
The perfect man becomes
A vague imitation.
He peels off his chivalry
With every slow sip of amber
And looks at things anew
Forgetting to remember
That the “things” are people –
The same one’s he’d protected
From unwanted suitors
And hearts, broken or rejected.
He paws them now
Collecting his just dues.
He’s in a state of inebriation –
At least that’s his excuse.


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