Homely Minister

Our dear Home Minister

Chieftain of our clan

The benevolent deliverer

Of the common man

Mighty guardian of our land and water

The phantom of terror grows

Haunting new cities

Its sceptre of death, cloak of sorrows

Snubbed authorities

And bombed Delhi under his righteous nose!

"Oh, yes!" he says with a frown"

I addressed the press

Dressed in black, and later changed to brown

For that suits me best

And chaperoned her highness ‘round the town."

What a stately attitude!

Attires are crucial

To disasters of such magnitude

And yet some dispel

Such humble gestures as being vain and crude

"They pick on my speeches too

Brand them insipid

But though I don’t say anything new

And appear placid

Doesn’t the oft repeated start to ring true?"

Ah, that’s a sure sign of might

Taking a tough stance

Condemning the act, resolving to fight

And who knows, by chance

A few jihadis may even die of fright!

© Copyright 2008 Madhulika. All rights reserved.

Morning Saga

She breezes in every morning, sometimes storms in
At ten or eleven or thereabouts
Accusing her peers of being lousy louts
Sending my staid household into a spin

She then sums me up with just a blink of an eye
"You went shopping yesterday, so I’m told
Bought three silk saris and saab’s got a cold!"
"Yeah..." I think, "Even the cops could use such a spy!"

She starts with the kitchen sink, rambling in full flow
"Rather hot today!" she says with a frown
I feebly smile as my pots and pans drown
In gallons of water mixed with soap by the kilo

"Have you heard of Mr. Mehta’s latest fancy?
His wife has - and been quite livid ever since."
She gives the dishes a cursory rinse
"Now he’s moping around like a wilted pansy!"

"How delightful!" I say even as a cup chips
She shrugs and dares me to utter a word
I grin, for my courage has turned to curd
And though I seethe, not a whimper escapes my lips

She wields the broom next, with a flair most uncanny
Two strokes here and three there wrap up each room
While spiders cheerfully spin webs of gloom
Arty anthills ravage surface, nook and cranny

"There’s a tawdry new watchman at the building gates
Just as bad as the old one, I suppose
So rude and snootily turns up his nose
Humility and grace are long forgotten traits..."

The swabbing is a less elaborate affair
And her temper is decidedly dour
For the clock has already struck the hour
Aren’t there more important matters under her care?

"Today, the Kumars gave their maid a hefty raise
It is high time now you revised my pay
Though you do give me a break each Sunday
It is but a hi-tech cellphone that my son craves!"

"But," I cry, "It’s been just two months since the last hike!"
"Haven’t you heard of inflation, my dear?
You must watch the news..." she says with a sneer
"Or read up... for it plagues the rich and poor alike"

I grow pale for I can find nothing more to say
"I’ll come tomorrow," she says soothingly
Innocent of blackmail and polity
She shrugs at my disquiet, smiles and calls it a day

© Copyright 2008 Madhulika. All rights reserved.