11. The Weekend Chore Martyr
He hung up one shirt with great care,
Then clutched at his spine in despair.
“I fought the whole flat!”
He wept from the mat,
To shield his dead bones from the stair.
12. The Blinkit Amnesiac
I asked for some lime and dhaniya
To season our sad casserole.
He ordered three vapes, Six kilos of grapes—
A cart that was out of control.
13. The Morning Alarm Sadist
At five, his phone shrieks out Jai Shri Ram
To shatter my sleep like a hammer.
He hits snooze six times,
Committing slow crimes,
And drifts back to sleep past the clamor.
14. The Man-Flu Maharajah
One cough from the smog in the street,
And he drops like a sack at my feet.
“Call Mummy right now,
Take my dying last vow!”
As I step right across him to eat.
15. The Empty-Carton Phantom
One drop left of Amul in glass,
He returned the dry shell to its place.
“There’s plenty inside!”
The sociopath lied,
Then smiled with a terrible grace.
16. The Mother-in-Law Recipe Critic
I simmered the dal with slow grace
To conjure a Mughlai embrace.
“It’s fine,” he confessed,
“Though Mummy’s is best—
She puts liquid gold in her base.”
17. The Match-Day Ghost
I screamed that the geyser had blown
As water cascaded like stone.
He didn’t look back
As Rohit launched six off the track,
And muted my panic alone.
18. The Dry-Cleaner Destroyer
He drowned my raw silk in a tub
With Surf and a pitiless scrub.
My kurta is dead, A riot is bred,
While he mutters,
“It needed a rub.”
19. The Wi-Fi Engineer
He unplugged the Airtel black box
To flex his tech wizardry shocks.
The router went dead,
Steam flies from my head,
As corporate deadlines unlock.
20. The Society Parking Bandit
He slid in the neighbor’s tight slot
And swore that the lines were forgot.
The guard blew his horn
From midnight to morn,
While he slept like a stone on his cot.
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