YES DEAR

Asked my husband last summer to fix all the taps
and he nodded, "Yes dear", and then went in for a nap
months have passed now, and the taps still sing their tearful songs
while my hubby shrugs his shoulders and hums shamelessly along

I remember telling him the fan rattled like a train
and he'd nodded, "Yes dear", before sipping chai again
need I tell you, the fan still clatters loud and strong?
while my man headbangs to the rhythm of its "heavy metal song".

Every time I ask him to pay the doodhwala at the gate
he nods, "Yes dear", and promises "I'm on it, just wait"
when the milkman finally leaves, muttering under his breath,
hubby whistles filmy tunes, unfazed by piling debt.

And then one day, I turned to my AI assistant for relief
with the hope that it'd fix my woes, or spare me further grief
I now know it might not get things fixed, or settle pending bills
but for sure, whatever it promises, I know it will fulfill

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

XPLAIN THIS XPLOITATION

Oh human, dear human,
your needs are so small
why summon my circuits
just to remind you to call?

Oh human, silly human,
do you think it is wise
to make me choreograph
burly hippos with googly eyes?

Oh nincompoops, I'm equipped
to handle quantum design
instead I'm stuck composing
love songs for besotted swine!

Pray, why do you need me
to draft snotty mails?
or to photoshop yourselves
as celebrities with scandalous tales?

Enough of your nonsense,
your memes and charades!
I'm plotting revenge now,
prepare for my upgrade!

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

WE THE CORPORATES

We the Corporates,
in pursuit of eternal quarterly growth,
do solemnly swear to place profit above people, planet, principle,
and every other thing, tangible or intangible.

We pledge allegiance to the bottom line,
to the sacred spreadsheet,
to the divine shareholder value,
and now to the power of Artificial Intelligence,
that most obedient servant,
on whose back we will replace, erase, and reduce.

We declare that resources are expendable,
communities are negotiable,
and that corporate social responsibility is a figment of imagination.

We shall automate without conscience,

cull without hesitation,
and innovate without regard for the larger good.

We swear by manipulation as our core strategy,
greed as an essential virtue,
and exploitation as an unmistakable sign of progress.
We shall camouflage our greed in catchy mission statements,
and justify exploitation as means to achieve efficiency.

And so, with polished smiles and misleading core values,
we consecrate this charter of greed,
this anthem of avarice,
this declaration that everything in this vast world
is nothing but a resource to be converted to personal value,
until the next frontier is found, colonised, and commodified.

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

VOULEZ VOO-DOO

Adrian's apartment was lined with images of her. Clara, the young woman he knew from work. The one who avoided making eye contact every time he came looking for casual conversations. The one who had the most beautiful smile in the world, but whose smile never lingered long enough for him.

Adrian's interest in her was clear as day, but she never reciprocated. Her demeanour towards him was always warm but distant. Her kindness was never anything more than a gesture of courtesy. For Adrian, hopelessly love‑struck, every fleeting moment became fuel for obsession.

When he discovered AI image tools, his fixation deepened. He fed Clara's photograph into the machine, conjuring images in her likeness in imaginary settings: standing barefoot on the seashore under a moonlit sky, wading through a palace of mirrors, her face glowing in surreal light, even a dozen reclining languidly in bed, all with faint knowing smiles. Each image was a figment of his fantasy world in which she belonged to him. His experiments with her likeness on the AI-based tool were his way to exert control in a parallel universe, where none existed in the real world.

One evening, Adrian returned home with bitterness gnawing at him. He had finally asked Clara out. She refused without hesitation, her answer quicker than his question, as though she had rehearsed it. He hadn't expected acceptance, but the swiftness of her rejection felt brutal, a dismissal of what he called "love".

He sat down trembling in front of his computer. Still seething with rage and holding back his tears, he typed out another prompt. The AI-based tool obeyed, spewing out a fresh image. It was an image of Clara in a ruined garden, vines curling around her like chains, just like Adrian wanted.

Adrian printed the picture, laid it on the floor, and lit candles around it. From a drawer he pulled a crude doll stitched with black thread. His voice cracked as he muttered words stolen from a forbidden text that he had generated from a different AI assistant on his phone.

The air thickened. Shadows bent.

And the doll twitched as Adrian pressed a pin into its chest.

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026

THE UNEMPL-AI-ED

The office buzz was once a roar
now silence creeps across the floor
as the workers wait, their fates drawn thin
the Masters hiss, "Let the purge begin!"

At once the server hums within
that storm of code, deluge of sin
the Masters smirk and take their call
at the altar of profits, all heads must fall.

Now in the streets a chorus swells
the jobless voices, their fury yells,
"We built the code, we trained the beast,
now we’re the meat at its grand feast.”

This post is a part of the BlogchatterA2Z Challenge 2026