Mainstream, VOL LIII No 34 August 15, 2015
India — 2015
Saturday 15 August 2015, by
More than the menace of a MonsoonCloud now stalks the land.Unrelenting stabs of imbecile assertionMaul the body politic as newbornTitans roll their sleeves andBare their fangs againstA republic whose slovenly habitsOf accomodation rebukeThe loud muscle of oppressive swagger.The command is out: let everyFlower in the realm henceforthTake on but one shape, size, andColour, or be deemed a trojan horse,Rather than a rose or a carnation,Asking to be decapitated rootAnd branch, stem and petal asDangerous to the nation LetEvery man, woman, child, learn butOne lesson, and write it upon theBrow, or else prepare to be taughtJust how. Let but one voice be ,Heeded, however grating and hollow,Speaking of trivia and thin air,While weightier matter hang fire.And whoever tire of that harangue,Muttered in street-smart twang,Shall put in jeopardy home and hearth,,And be declared of dubious worth.Myriad voices of common concernMay whisper the plight of reason,The single-minded Cyclops’ eyeWatches with giant smirkTheir suspicious faces of treason.Many mutinies gather, nevertheless,Hoping to build barricades thatNo Fascios may breach. But,Nothing for now seems beyondThe reach of masterful bullyingMasking masterful greed; a newlyMindted breed of beneficiariesEnsure that the channels spewThe rout of justice and fairplay,Making the way smooth and spryFor the well-heeled and noisy lie.Yet, the more that they gather in,The more things fall apart. WhatHas been tried before may notSustain beyond a pyrrhic day;The rich may like top-down tyranny,But India’s countless hoi polloi—They are something else again,And cussedly make their own way.