This is an appeal to the Indian men,

Who every now and then,

Dare to venture out gallantly,

In a pair of boxers, oh so casually,

Strolling on a morning walk,

In a local market, or out for a casual talk.

 

You see, boxers are an under thing,

And though the looks may be deceiving,

They cannot, your shorts, replace,

Nor the need to wear your pants, efface,

For this is not a two-in-one deal,

And though we appreciate your undies saving zeal,

Wear your bottoms, you must,

And the laws of aerodynamics, trust,

Coz the territory down south, may get a little too airy,

And turn into a peek-a-boo show, scary.

 

In the end,

Your boxers may prevent,

A fungal infection or two,

But the ‘flash dance’ will spew,

Chuckles and snorts and some infamous fame,

With the king’s berth in the hall of shame.

 

Though your inhibitions, you want to inhibit,

Be wary of a ‘chaddi’ wear-and-show exhibit,

There is only one guy who can pull off such a plan,

If you couldn’t guess, his name is Superman,

And even he, would wear them over his costume,

With a matching cape, in red bloom.

But Superman, my dear, you are not,

So even if it is blazing hot,

Do not try the dangerous boxer stunt,

To catch off guard, the world out front,

It may be wise to be a little discreet,

And wear your trousers whilst on the street,

For though I hate to burst your bubble,

Such prudence, will save you a world of trouble.