Ballad of an old Hawk

“Boom!” went the bomb in a highly crowded place
Stunning the nation with a sudden distress.
Everybody went in a state of utter shock
The nation mourned the dead, except the old hawk.


“Where is my chariot?” shouted the bald man.
“Bring it out to me as fast as you can.”
Men around him thought he must have gone mad
“A Yatra in this hour? Won’t it look bad?”

“Oh you idiots!” scorned the iron-man
“We need a riot! Go, bring my van!
“The time is just ripe, we need to reach the mob.
“And fire up the hatred, and then the next job

Is to call the press and say it clear and loud
All these are the handiworks of secularists and Dawood.
Remember guys for ever one of my wisest sayings
That Bombs and Blood had always ensured our gains.

The Rath started to roll its wheels amidst the dust
Many towns and villages one by one it passed.
Atop the Rath, stood a man with hawkish eyes
With a heart full of hatred and lips full of lies.

Preaching hate everywhere, spitting filth and fire
Spreading canards to all (like a perfect liar)
But alas! Nobody had cared a little time,
To listen to the old fox’s rotten old rhyme!

Temples and Mosques had lost all their charm
Votes can no longer be bought by shouting “Jai Shri Ram”
The man atop a lone chariot now looks a bit funny!
People say the clown’s name is L K Advani.

(I wrote this poem immediately after the Sankatmochan blasts in Varanasi and the announcement of Bharatsuraksha Rathyatra by L K Advani).