Offstumped – Commentary on Indian Politics

As the UPA-Left drama on the Indo-US Nuclear Deal plays on for yet another day, Offstumped readers can retire for the weekend with a long nucle-yaawwn listening to this Jagjit Singh, Chitra Singh ghazal (courtesy this blogger) to get an inside perspective on the latest soliloquy at 7 Race Course Road (the previous one can be found here).

Manzil na de charag na de hosla to de,
tinke ke ka hi sahi tu magar aasara to de.

Maine ye kab kaha ke mere haq me ho jawaab,
lekin khamosh kyun hey tun koi faisla to de.

Barson mein tere naam par khata raha fareb,
mere khuda kahan hai tun apna pata to de.

?Beshak mere naseeb par rakh apna ekhtiyar,
lekin mere naseeb main kya hai bata to de.

Filed under: Poetry

As the Arjun Singh episode festers on in the Congress, the sad reality is the likes of Arjun Singh have become dinosaurs in the Congress. The occuppy space far too disproportionate to their actual weight and they are increasingly going to be irrelevant in a Congress lead by Rahul Gandhi with Sonia Gandhi gradually ceding control.

To all the geriatrics in the Congress like Arjun Singh, here is an Offstumped re-run on the Gerontocracy they have been so used for the last 60 years but not anymore.

listen my son to the tale of yayati, embrace my age, gift me perenntiy
oh such indulgences of the world await, lest my powers fade by some quirk of fate
fate it was that blessed me with this ticket, run I shall its hardly a game of cricket
u may see me stutter, u may see me fumble – ummm ! aaha my machinations, my mind is quite nimble

the dust and din, which way are they steered, worry u shall not, the pitch has been queered
those of our kin will side by me, to the rest, epitomize I shall unparallel public servility
nothing to chance, the goons shall have the box, beware my foes, of this old peasant fox
the lots are cast, the numbers will add up, the contest has been won, I am the new satrap

blessed are u, wont u touch my feet, these garlands, they are no bother in this heat
worship and revere, the ground I stand have no fear my friends, shadowing you is my hand
so long Armani, take away my chemise, farewell Gucci, miss wont I your tails & tweeds
time for Gandhi, bring in the khadis? don’t miss the topi that’s my political mufti

Mr.. Clean, white as milk, hobble or fumble
for us of your ilk, a favour or two, should be no trouble
swear by your age, preach thy shallow wisdom
shepherd we shall the masses,? thrive it shall your sycophantic kingdom

what do we care, for your legislative no-show
? look out u shall, for those of us in the know
ignore we shall your remarks  asinine, in public

desh ki hit mein, janta ki hit mein
however, don’t get too fond of? your voice, , its giving us a migraine

there’s shufflei on the cards, reiterate your vishwas
sing the paeans, don’t upset the applecart with your bakwaas
persevere, practice and u shall perfect that stoic facade
me at this age, not for me those posts,? I am here to serve the public at large

there must be a mistake, did they misread all those cues
despair no our mouthpiece, this slight they shall rue

dust up the handbook of Opposition
sulk and croon in legislative discordance
don’t let up the onslaught with critical interjection
bankroll we shall subtly this willful display of dissidence

well there will come an expansion, of sizes jumbo
awarded u shall be, what consequence is the portfolio
your car has a flashlight and your dog its detail of commandos
as for us your courtiers, shall make do with the lutyen’s bungalows

north block, south block, sanchar bhavan or sansad bhavan
they are all the same, head u must for that foreign hill station
leave it to us and those babus to manage the show in your absentia
for all the different it makes, you may as well be convalescing from dementia

the deals have been fixed, the kickbacks well received
the oath, the trust, has been very thoroughly  deceived
your kith and kin, trust us, have all been taken care of
bless us for we shall, aim for that million dollar rip-off

our plunder and your non-performance will soon take their toll
gather the kids and their kids for that all important foreign jaunt
all your scandals and all those slights, will soon come to haunt
its prudent you stayed back, get those stones out of your gall

we stalled we subverted, we constituted an enquiry commission
the heat is off, the deeds forgotten, we have laid to rest your acts of omission
the time is ripe and you have come of age, for a role more gubernatorial
your stature shall be kept, your respect shall be honored, in those pesky editorials

I love the courtiers, I love the bailiff, I have an ADC, I ride a rolls Royce
no more poking fun at me the illeterate, This chancellory thing, I got a honorary doctorate
I bless inaugurations, I pontify sermons on governance
one snag, I am just a minion of the high command, my political life has turned so bland

we are back, we are in business
some nasty dissidence, shall be in the order of fitness
ressurect you we shall, with one foot in the grave
let them dare deny, whats rightfully your claim

it’s a truly second coming
your flair for ineptitude unchanged
what governance what policy
its time to enshrine yourself for posterity

we have renamed the dam, we have issued a stamp
we set up that trust, the sculptor is fast at work on your bust
your name is on the plaque, who will know your contributions from fake
we have firmly established your legacy, now is the time to bask in its glory

my prodigal son you have returned., Touch his feet anoint him heir-apparent
Yayati of the old spake
sensual desire is never quenched by indulgence any more than fire is extinguished by pouring oil
not for me such profound realizations, so conceited I am in spirit and substance

secure I shall your future, and of course my phoney legacy,
this is the order of my generation, our carefully crafted GERONTOCRACY
allergic we are to democracy, detest we do any hint of meritocracy
call it some may senile dysfunction, me thinks it is geriatric maturation

soon I shall be gone, occupy you shall prime land
consecrate my grave, preserve my wrinkled image to posterity
don the mantle of my legacy, in it lies your ticket to electoral victory
your accent is fine but you cant do without the khaddar or the Gandhi topi

a worthy successor my son, and thus laments an out of favour
minion such is the fate of our nation, no escaping the dynastic imperialisation
our grandfathers and fathers, how they have let us down
things have come to such a pass, not for me life in this capital town

fool you can only survive abroad while my epitaph proudly reads
Long Live the leader of the masses, the revolutionary
Dr. whatever, who saved us from the throngs of penury
To commemorate my legacy, on this day, they shall lay a wreath and pray

LONG LIVE GERONTOCRACY LONG LIVE THE GERIATRICS OF MY AGE

Filed under: Poetry

Where the mind is with fear and heads hang in shame;
Where knowledge is hostage to terror;
Where the state has been broken up into fragments by mafioso party cadre;
Where words come out from the abyss of subterfuge;
Where tireless indoctrination manipulates minds into deception;
Where the clear stream of revolution has lost its way into the
dreary politics of dead ideology;
Where the mind is led backward by them into an ever-widening?chasm of?fear
and inaction–
Into that cess pit of horror, Gurudeb, your sons have regressed

With due apologies to Gurudeb Rabindranath Tagore, a lament on the terror unleashed in Nandigram by the CPI-M’s mafioso Harmud Vahini with the full blessings of Comrades Prakash Karat, Sitaram Yechury, Jyoti Basu, Brinda Karat and Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee and Biman Bose.

Filed under: Poetry