VOICES
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KEJRIWAL’S DELHI
This is capital city, Delhi;
Nation’s heartless, concrete jungle,
Where ideas puff out toxic fumes,
Furnace of dreams and civilizations;
Where emotionless, blank, humans dwell.
Where conspiracies are hatched in graves,
And bless the brute neo-riches,
Manufactured by Lalus, Mulayams, Mayas.
But the people in rags and tatters,
Cultivated by Kejris, Medhas, Marx, Lohiyas;
Running for freebies and rot;
Making them perpetual beggars.
Here lies the never ending clusters,
Illegal, unauthorized;
Filled with mud, filth and fumes venomous.
Inhibited by souls lethargic, languid;
Always stare things beautiful and luxurious;
But all for free.
Smoke, filth, mud, dirty water;
Turned their belly into an inferno,
Ready to swallow every thing.
Here painted maidens smile,
For a price and gratification.
Vice is honored as merit,
But merit dies unknown, unattended.
And we are moving in a lorry,
Whose driver is an impostor beguiled as crusader.
N.B: This poem is a sarcasm on the politics of populism and freebies in India and voter’s greed for freebies and ignoring the patriotism, nationalism and national and social interest. Such politics was played by NGO activist Shri Arvind Kejriwal, who got very strong and unparalleled mandate.
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