Mainstream, VOL LIII No 27 New Delhi June 27, 2015
The Empire Peddles Back
Monday 29 June 2015, by
When you came Bible-peddling,I was not numero uno;Now that I am, take back withInterest wages for that meddling,As a hundred and seventy nationsBack my awesome, acrobatic show.Watch the thrusting of my leg,Chest inflated, arms akimbo,Fire in my eye, beard aflame,Heart raging with dreamOf conquest, mind intent onWeeding out all such elementThat questions my abhiyan,Kicking up an anti-national row.Espy these legions of health,Backed by bushel-fulls of wealth,Retreat, and never again dareCome anywhere near Delhi,Lucknow, Jhansi, Agra,For Nagpur now insures BharatWith a prowess that willNot spare your imperial belly.Be warned: as I gyrate, twist, unwind,There is nothing spiritual on my mind.Our grand army of NRI NinjasIs enough to subdue your coolTo contortions you never knew.And political dividends better follow,Such as your rotten dollar and EuroWithout let, hindrance, delaysTo fuel my smart-city-make-in-India craze.Should you do that without demur,We will not break another church door.Anti-Hindu carpers at homeWill no doubt carry on their moan.But worry not, take a hintFrom what the discarded patriarchHas said: if need be, we will enforceOur right to Emergency. In factAre we not already there,Wilthout declaration or fanfare?Note that when our patriarchBe unduly grim, we do listen to him.We may jail even those who failUs internationally, given that ourVikas rate now self-evidently shamesMany a so-called advanced state. AsTo poverty and the poor, weWill leave that bother to those whoBetter undertake such chore;After all, what are the CongressAnd the Left parties for? As weYog to golden blasts of growth,Poverty gives them something to do.Thus wily old Disraeli’s two nationsRemain distinct, disparate, true.So, let Yog be the thin end ofThe wedge that makes the whiteMacaulay brown, and yieldsMany a manufacturing town,That teaches the swaggering BritTo quit his tainted English forThe profound beauties of Sanskrit—Minus, of course, the naughty thingsTherein, which apocryphal incursionsOwe to the conquering Saracen.Such embarrassments as Kama Sutra,Kumar Sambhava, Mrichhikatakam, orMudra Rakhshasa, and other thingsOf that ilk, mere evidences of hackingLong before the computer was a-making.We mean the Sanskrit of the godsAlone, not of men who actuallyUsed their human penchant, quill, or pen.All that of course, our learned onesShall impart with a fee, as BharatWill rise and the west go underThe sea. Such is the meaningOf Yog, such is our ineluctable fantasy.Now gyrate, gyrate, do not missThe bus; even Wall Street knowsThe twentyfirst century belongs to us.So do thine Yog without snooty fuss.