We may blame anybody
For it costs nothing;
We chorus to blame
As if we are alone patriots
ranged for a symphony...
When we say India is corrupt
We spare none,
PM, Press, Sarpanch, touts
Say, all are same,
We crowd the streets with dhols and mandalas
Make a rock music of scams, misrules and muscles.
Freedom of speech-
Cheapest Food of Democracy
That we love to consume
And sing and dance to blame,
To blow, Blemish is our strength.
PM, Press no more Hon’ble members of India-family
Even Mahatma no more the father of nation
to be spared…
When anybody says to me admonishingly
My father is a thief, My brother, a tout
My blood is bad;
I oppose like bad blood;
All I know then I’m a shield for my kin
And when I am put to 'check’, defeated, I realize
Anything wrong with my family
I cry within and cry secretly
In closed seclusion…
Where’re the dhols and bassoons…?