Submitted by admin4 on 27 February 2013 –

A poem 

By Asma Anjum,

Dark clouds gather
Choking smoke fumes
We run for cover as they howl
He is coming, he is coming.
Ears have gone blind and minds are frozen
He is the one they say who has played the perfect development orgy
[A stripped emperor smiling at his ‘new’ clothes? ]
Never mind we have the lowest human development index
Carcasses , cadavers, skeletons too, are now vexed
[For his fear they don’t tumble out now from the closet! ]

He rode here this far
Calling us all Miyan Bhai Musharrafs, Auranagzeb ki aulad
[ he envies us, he doesn’t have one!]
Armed with the panache of a media savoir-faire
The synthetic CM simulates the wolf cry
All made up, all made up , he is media- manufactured
We cry.
All made up.

Decorated with thousand skulls round his taut neck
Like pearls a king flaunts among his subjects
But the skulls are breaking fast
They will not be dug out from the debris of democracy,
[The debris is being flattened by us all!]
No luck you say as that crooked King Richard 3rd freshly had?
When his skull was ’re’ captured from a car park
It was broken into two
A sword, I swear, was thrust into his skull
[Poetic justice for a loyal brother!]
Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown!
He killed his nephews but not before kissing them tenderly
No kisses and hugs for Miyan bhais ,we know well enough
[not even a good bye kiss , you see!]
How many more, they ask him
3000 Gujaratis ( ! ) were not enough
[four more zeroes and you get teen karod Gujaratis! ]
But this time it won’t be a made to order thingy.
He grins.

Rather I would chalk out a new “G “plan.
Listen and quiver, listen and quiver
Will be their fate
Forever condemned to a sorry state
How else, you tell me, to keep ’them’ straight?
My media acumen and my media bouncers will tear them to pieces
Raj dharm , he winks, I know well.
Now I will show them what is Hindu[tva] dharm ka raj
The nephews were lucky, they were kissed before death
I will make them die [daily] a thousand deaths…..