Sleepy musings on a sultry, humid night

 If those in power could take corruption to the extent of CWG, coal mines and 2G spectrum, thus writing it clearly on the wall at every nook corner that that’s how things are done. Everybody knew that corruption came perilously close to be synonymous with Congress. With the incentive of all this knowledge, the masses who voted these people into power again in 2009, it proved that we aren’t just a poor helpless bunch of monkeys. We are in fact street smart guys who know how things get facilitated to creep out of the dusty corridors of governance.

Manmohan Singh became the third longest serving PM of India after Nehru and Indira. It also prove that we Indians have a lot of digestion for hereditary rule. If we are to believe in royalty, Nehru the King and his family the royal family have a long-standing in our ruling affairs and rightly so. It’s as per our customs that are comfortable with royalty and hereditary hold over knowledge, skills and rulership. Well if it finds favor with the majority of my countrymen then a cribbing commoner like me should shut his mouth very tight. In fact I’m keenly waiting for the Yuvraj to become the PM of India, which he will surely at least once.

**

When lakhs of your own sons and daughters are taking pot-shots at you, think o mighty Hindustan think! Either you have turned out to be a very bad father or they are the worst of children.

**

I've an arrowed heart. Its insensitive steel a check dam across the smooth flow of the river of my sensitivities. But more painful is the fact that the hands that pulled the string of merciless bow are the hands of my own people. My Bhisma's arrowed body with countless holes in it offers the outlets for the outflow of countless sins committed by me and my near and dear ones.

**

It rains in the hills. Muck, shit, garbage, cow and people stink even more. But Ma Ganga gets a nutritious face pack. Its sediment-laden torrents gain victory over the errant child perennially shitting and pissing in its motherly lap.

**

While many an Indian PM delivered the costmary Red Fort speech, it has rained during the last leg of the monsoon season. It always appears to me that God pours water to wash some of our collective sins. Thank God our cute to cumbersome PMs’ khadi appears spotless and clean.

**

V shouldn’t evaluate our status by analyzing shadows. Just because we have long shadows in the morning and evening doesn’t mean we are giants. If you think so then we are dwarfs at noon. So go for the substance fella. That will confirm the real status. It will puncture the ego, leak out extra air from the balloon of your existence and allow you to fly at a height where you deserve to be.

**

Even the words of sympathy and the emotions of piety serve as a fraction of the practical fight for justice in terms of utility. So feel proud for your contribution to a greater cause. If you still feel helpless and guilty for not doing even that then recall the memories of any selfless soul that you remember  on account of his/her deeds and you nurture a strain of greatness in your DNA.

**

The Governments waste more energy in defending their wrong rather than justifying their right.

**

If a few thousand votes cast in secrecy can make you the so called law-maker, then the millions of open and non-secretive shouts in someone’s support earn him the status of law-defender. Governments you just cannot ignore the civil society’s cause. It comes with far better democratic legitimacy than you guys.

**

Conversation with a Stranger:

One day he asked someone hiding inside

the bodily façade like a fugitive,

‘Who are thou?

And why despite all the architectural negativities

people define thou positively?’

From it unreachable deep cellar

that someone raised it germ-free, disinfected voice,

‘I am the exiled one without choice,

While the bones and the flesh around me

in worldly spotlight rejoice,

I just take the ordained backseat

and watch the game of

birth, survival, struggle and death

played inside the castle on the shaking stage.

‘Don’t you feel perplexed by the passing days?’

Again the query was voiced,

‘Don’t you feel bad or ever you rejoiced?’

It answered in a heavy, impassive tone,

‘Thy gimmick cannot shake my throne,

In the timeless shades I spend my time here

and when the castle will be broken

the death squad will find the door open,

Away I’ll fly with the figures of

deeds and misdeeds to the final court,

and if it is found short,

again I’ll be exiled.

It has been like this for thousands of years,

but I never rejoice at new birth

nor weep at death and shed tears,

My book lies in mighty primordial hands

and the player to settle cores changes with worldly trends,

I am the same forlorn, exiled child

of the majestic, mighty father,

It’s a never-ending game perhaps,

A tiny cog on the chessboard of creation,

Let’s see how high and mighty you make the castle,

Void will then gobble the tone and stars!’