Tuesday, August 10, 2010
The Emperor has no clothes!
Stadiums standing on faith and totem poles
India awaits its turn on the auction block
No time, none even to take stock
Money spent, records not even in a dusty register
Where are you, Mr.Prime Minister?
Red flags running amok in jungles beyond reach
Everyone's an expert, thanks to that freedom of speech
Hollow victories built on dispensable lives
Bidders all, exchanging high fives
Sore wounds left alone to fester
Where did you go to, Mr. Prime Minister?
Floods that wash away memories of years-long drought
Want money for food? Well, come on, show us that clout
Fields lie waste, grains left outside to brave the weather
While burning tears rain on hides of leather
A nation caught in the eye of a twister
Where might you be, Mr. Prime Minister?
The Valley burns, but there's no fire in the hearth
As your well-fed minions steadily add to their girth
The sick await doctors you didn't hire
While our taxes merrily burn in this hellfire
Look up your job if you will in Webster's
And tell us, what must you do Mr. Prime Minster?
Besides putting that foot in the mouth
In some conference room up West, or down South
We're trying to level the diplomatic scores
Even as the enemy lies in wait at our shores
I guess we'll patiently wait for the next disaster
To see what you'll do Mr. Prime Minister.
Angry voices float above your head
But you choose to ignore them instead
Watching in a Zen-like state
As we battle it out with our wretched fate
Who knew silence could be so sinister?
Till you showed us it is, Mr. Prime Minister.
But then, why must you listen to our stifled screams
When you're building the India of our dreams
One that's powered by energy, nuclear and clean
So you turn away from what's burning up your screen
It's us, Sir, wondering from here on to Twitter
Whatever the hell happened to our Prime Minister?
NOTE: The views expressed are extremely personal