Stuck?
Sewn?
or Safe?
in between the pleats of an Italian Saree,
Absurd white with plum blue streaks,
He lurks and plots,
Hides and plots,
Even parties and plots.
When the god mother goes off to mass,
praying for the prosperity of her immortal dynasty,
Queens and King makers in a sorry democracy,
He finds his solace in the pleats once again,
this time a smiling damsel,
wearing the angel moon of her tyrant grandmother.
No one dares question the crooked V of Victory,
The drugged dove of peace,
The resounding slap of the Hand,
And How the Nehrus' became Gandhis'
And with it, came how,
the country's favourite rubber stamp of recognition.
"Gandhi!"
He is now away,
hidden from stern, hopeless public eyes,
Frightened no, a trifle anxious maybe,
But, So what if the shadow of the pleats,
left a half moon on the conning scalp?
In a country of a million of millionaires,
and a billion of ragpickers,
He buys (and sells at 600%) the strings to pull,
The Wise Puppet-Master.
-Palash
October'2012, Lumding.
He lurks and plots,Hides and plots,
Even parties and plots.
When the god mother goes off to mass,
praying for the prosperity of her immortal dynasty,
Queens and King makers in a sorry democracy,
He finds his solace in the pleats once again,
this time a smiling damsel,
wearing the angel moon of her tyrant grandmother.
No one dares question the crooked V of Victory,
The drugged dove of peace,
The resounding slap of the Hand,
And How the Nehrus' became Gandhis'
And with it, came how,
the country's favourite rubber stamp of recognition.
"Gandhi!"
He is now away,
hidden from stern, hopeless public eyes,
Frightened no, a trifle anxious maybe,
But, So what if the shadow of the pleats,
left a half moon on the conning scalp?
In a country of a million of millionaires,
and a billion of ragpickers,
He buys (and sells at 600%) the strings to pull,
The Wise Puppet-Master.
-Palash
October'2012, Lumding.
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