Tag Archives: Modi

The Nirbhaya Chronicles – December 31st, 2012

SHE HANDS OVER THE BATON

These sonnets (each with the same fixed rhyming scheme) cover:

what India (us and the political class) was doing

when Nirbhaya (who symbolized the apathy of politicos) was dying.

To her memory. And to our awakening. (Read the previous verses)

Let us continue our fight for a 2nd azaadi with the same verve. 

( the links are clickable; so read about our representatives before 2014! )

Such a sad end to such a lousy year,

But that applies to lesser mortals.

For the political class is immune and clear,

Of all troubles despite their abettals.

But now their story will begin in earnest,

And the indications of this are ample.

One, which Sheila Dixit had to sample,

When to protestors she acted divinist.

They shunned her and asked her to scoot

And go elsewhere, which she did with the hoot.

Otherwise they continue to wield power,

And with it, the money that will shower

Over their small cheap heads that they self-preserve.

They are wild animals protected in their own reserve.

 

Her funeral was a hushed up affair,

And done amid real tight security.

At her cremation, even the air,

Must’ve whispered without acuity.

PM and Sonia were at the airport

To receive her body at 3.30 am.

They consoled her parents, ahem . . .

How and with what, imagine the amort

In their words, though decency’s not in doubt,

At least not in their case, unlike that lout

The president’s son, or that UP schmuck

Raja Bhaiya, and now even some Sena muck,

That apparently found the prez’s son crap delicious

But timed wrongly; not surprising, typically supercilious.

 

 

Oh it wasn’t the year of social media.

Not at all. Nor was it just women safety;

Not even Corruption, a synonym for India,

Or even economic forecast and its dubiety.

It wasn’t about Modi for heaven sake,

Nor about the duo Sonia and Manmohan,

And not about an intermittent Rahul darshan,

Not even the shindy that parliament bills rake.

It was the year of the countless and faceless,

Of the subjugated, the ruled, the nameless;

It was about those hostaged in their own land,

Denied fairplay, dignity, opportunity, justice and

The first year of a new revolution, a second azaadi without fear,

To complete what began sixty-six years ago, thanks to Nirbhaya.

The 2012 New Years eve i.e. 31st December was the gloomiest ever in ‘independent’ India, certainly because of Nirbhaya’s death, which besides it overwhelming sadness, was a grim reminder that India still isn’t ‘independent’, trapped as it is, in the clutches of a self serving ruling class of the elite who do not represent us and use communal and caste divide to their fullest advantage.

It is time for people to seek a 2nd azaadi, a genuine self rule devoid of religious fundamentalism, crony capitalism and ‘ruler’ elitism.

  

Follow Nirbhaya’s India here on ‘WordPress’ on www.nirbhayasindia.com or through my twitter account: @nirbhayasindia 

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The Nirbhaya Chronicles – December 22nd, 2012

These sonnets (each with the same fixed rhyming scheme) cover:

what India (us and the political class) was doing

when Nirbhaya (who symbolized the apathy of politicos) was dying.

To her memory. And to our awakening.

Let us continue our fight for a 2nd azaadi with the same verve. 

( the links are clickable; so read about our representatives before 2014! )

An appeasing bureaucrat commits a blunder.

RK Singh, Union Home Secretary is all alone,

In his praise for the police’s ‘outstanding’ job

In cracking the matter. A callow effort to atone,

Or allay the passions on the streets are blasted,

For his odd understanding of the mood in the city,

Where now, on Nirbhaya, an escalated worry

Of infection looms though the ventilator’s egested.

But action has inched in another shameful mantel.

In telecom, charge sheeted are Vodafone and Airtel

And the telecom secretary then Shyamal Ghosh, when

Pramod Mahajan was Minister and 846 crores was writhen,

Compared to which, Kalmadi’s 90 crore is one helluva shame,

For the kind of age we live in and with the kind of needs insane.

 

 

Scamashtra’s self-righteous patriots have awoken,

With the twin aphrodisiacs of nation and state.

This time the cocktail of the two has spoken,

From Manohar Joshi’s mouth with traditional hate,

Warning openly that the Sena would surely disrupt,

Cricket matches with Pak in Mumbai and elsewhere

In the state, because only friends play cricket anywhere;

And then his Modi-for-Prime Minister pitch is abrupt.

Perhaps the love for Modi is directly proportional,

To hate for Muslims and if made flagrantly institutional,

It blossoms infinitely. But government seems determined

To show there is no blind love for Walmart, and if they sinned,

Will be probed by the retired judge in thirty days, and the terms

Are being broadened to include naming beneficiaries and chums.

 

Her lab reports are disturbing even though

She’s off ventilator. And the police has nabbed

The six accused finally, including a minor who

Will doubtless pose complications that dab

With the law for minors, in a nation where

Men can remain children for very long,

Sometimes till when their parents are gone,

And even their sisters have delivered with flair.

Now though his dong can put an adult to shame,

And enough to earn his family a rapist’s infame,

He’ll be cradled instead of being whipped in jail.

At such times the fact that the law can colossally fail,

Is yet another evidence that how stupidly this nation,

Has figured its own utterly misshapen blundering creation.

Three sonnets covering each day of the Nirbhaya period will be posted everyday. Follow them here on ‘WordPress’ on http://www.nirbhayasindia.com or through my twitter account: @nirbhayasindia 

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