Far removed from the self-congratulatory
Political class, Nirbhaya struggles to live.
Her intestines are removed in the second surgery,
But better results her friend has started to give,
In the identification parade at Tihar Jail.
Politicians are now falling over each other,
To condemn the incident with blather.
But they must think we’re asses who fail
To see, how to simply align with the tide
They speak, but wear the same pig-hide.
One AIADMK and one Trinamool MP
Of the Lok Sabha, have charges quite simply
Of violence against women – of assault and rape;
Meanwhile Nirbhaya’s will to live makes docs gape.
Just two short of his last score,
Modi swept Gujarat off its feat.
And yes, urban votes were at the core,
Of it, besides the 250 rallies skeet,
That he did against Rahul’s eight,
And Sonia’s seven, both half-hearted,
Coupled with marketing sins that thwarted,
Their own chances instead.
But impatient to set sights on Delhi,
He found the wait so unbearably
Difficult, that he hinted that his Hindi
People must get used to – imagine the lindy
They nearly did on the chance, that Modi may prance
By Delhi’s throne, a filler for commoners in the dynastic dance.
In Himachal the exit polls had to exit;
Their predictions went quite awry.
Congress with clear majority earned credit,
And proved the talk of doom was blubbery.
But what to make of Modi’s glib talk,
Is as vague as he may have intended,
Asking for forgiveness in case (un)intended,
He made a mistake, the conditional ropewalk.
But without a single Muslim fielded by him,
Methinks it’s best to let his histrionics dim,
As also on Himachal, Congress’s applause,
‘Twas like an old goat with a deferred menopause,
Whose image good boy Jaitley went to taint,
On gadkarian-like charges that instead had the BJP faint.