An Ode to Sycophants

Amalendu Upadhyaya
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dear sycophant, you don’t even know what you bring to the other men’s life (let
this be a man to man thing) when they are reeling under the roughness of sorts.
You make them puff up and conjure all the possible heights that they can
possibly achieve due to their newly awakened spirits. They are seen going gaga
over little triumphs deceiving them into believing that this is nothing in
comparison to what they truly deserve. Their desires soar into the limitless
skies and they instantly assume the trump-ism of the worst kind. They start
gloating about the small things with the passion of a full-on maniac and refuse
to settle down on anything less than their ridiculous antics. What a feat. They
then love feasting on the pompous and delusional raft of personal and
professional goals.

the dire propensity of a hardcore bragger, they come out as the most vulnerable
souls on planet earth that need to hold a mirror in their hands to see the
sordid picture. They wag their tongues and allow no space for others to breathe
as they fill the atmosphere with the obnoxious gases of their tall claims and
falsehoods. I pity them. And I praise you, the worthy sycophant who can throw
dust in the eyes of the most reasonable of all. 
Your demure smile can create a magic. Your slippery words can bind the
most flexible of all. You are the master of your art. You hold the highest
qualifications in the art of psycho-fancy. But this is about you and your
artistry. What about your victims who lose themselves out and start on an
undisclosed journey of self-ish discoveries?

Let’s play the blame game here. This is the best sport that we play, every now and then, even at the slightest provocation.  Let reason be sacrificed at the altar of our fake egos. So, it is basically about you as you can drive people crazy by a subtle twist of your tongue. You make them forget that something called rationality exists as they close their eyes conveniently to be there where they never managed to be. It is a retreat. And they love it. Away from the harsh realities of their unfailing failures and occasional victories. They allow themselves to drift apart to another world where they fulfill all their unfulfilled aspirations and feel complete. Such is your charisma, artsy sycophant. You are not to be blamed for what happened to others in their moments of imagined glory. You are an instrument.  And you played upon them to the best of your ability. A skill that you mastered after years of practice. Many fell prey to your designs. You quietly smile when you see people smarting under their titanic self-worth. Your job is done ‘cause now they are ready. Now they can be molded as per your wants and wishes. So?  Is it about you or them. No prize for guessing. Ofcourse you, silly. You enter into their mind-spaces and wreak havoc. You tell them what is not and show them what is flawed. Long live psycho-fancy and long live your undying craft.

– Simmi Gurwara


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