India

 

India,

You are a son of a bitch.

You are a mother who never gave a fuck about her kids.

You are that fragrant aunty from the neighborhood,

who is always found in parlors,

parting in parochial bliss.  

India,

You scum, bum, a dried stain of cum,

You have raped your girls and made mouse outta your boys.

You take pleasure in brawls and fights,

but chicken out at the sight of them Uncles and tough guys.

You bolt, when I need you,

you halt when I wanna move,

You say no, when I want to,

and you never say yes,

 just to make me hate you.

India,

Tell me why should I love you?

Have you ever given me anything I have asked you to?

"You have taken my crops and fattened the industrial pigs. 

You have taken my rights and fed it to the undeserving nitwits.

The degrees you have given me are not even good to wipe ass with.

When I am crying in the streets motherless, you've made me wash dishes.

When I was sick, you have given my kidney to the rich.

You have shattered my dreams for the big cheese.

You have handed me a garbage bag when I needed a pen,

and when you gave me one, it was to sell for cheap on a traffic signal.

You took away my self esteem India, and instead,

pasted there posters of jealousy,

And your self-pompousness?

Man, get a life,

Get your head outta your poor pathetic ass.

for the two digit stats,

never helped a man on the side of your grotesque flyovers.

India,

Maybe your men are Madarchods, sick, worthless chums.

Maybe your women are all lame fucks, sitting ducks, ready to get humped.

Maybe you yourself are a land of water downed sperm,

Maybe you are nothing about a dandy selfie under an accumulated historical sum.

And I am horrified at your apathetic neutralism.

I remember India,

I played in your lap once,

I shat in your gardens and had fun in your streets once, 

I danced, sang and sprang from childhood to adolescence in your presence once,

I hoped, dreamed and dared in your corridors once

I saw the moon from your countryside once,

I saw a mother and a father in your city once, 

But remember India,

had it not been for my biological mother,

you'd never have thought twice,

before making me feel forsaken .

You really are a bitch.

India,

Your women are mean, your men are mean, your shops are mean, your ways are mean,

your gods are mean and your god-men are mean, your genes are means and your mothafucking

DNA is mean, your ministers are mean, your people are mean, your Parliament is mean and

your hospitals are mean, your trees are mean, your water is mean, your relatives are mean, your

friends are mean, your business partners are mean and your lovers are mean, your dogs are

mean and your cats are mean, and  India you chut, YOU are mean and you are turning ME mean

even though I don't want to.

India,

Do you really think elections every once and then are the answers to my problems?

Do you feel that your corrupt committees can measure my potential?

India do you think your pathetic patriotism can buy me food?

Do you think Modis, Gandhis, Adani and Ambanis can do me any good?

India, you

a collective of bigoted, baniyas and chutiyas,

You have no concern for my human soul,

You have no concern for my feelings, my wants, my dreams, my thoughts,

You, India, you,

why have you placed this misery upon us two?

India,

you selfish Raghuram Rajan,

why you never give me presents on my birthdays?

why you not tell me I look good?

or that I can do anything that I want to?

Why am I not my own,

in this land that appropriates even selfless saints and sadhus?  

India,

will you listen to me once?

Will you think about what I am telling you just this once?

Or India, will you, yet again, call me anti you?

Me, someone who has never known anyone but you?

Listen to me you,

your mosque demolitions and temple blasts,

don't give me anything to laugh or cry about.

Maybe you made the first airplane,

but the falling MiGs don't tell me the same tale.

It could be that you were great, (and I know that you were)

but memories don't make me feel

motivated, fulfilled and satisfied again.

But India, to you I say this,

"Rise, I tell you, rise,

rise like a phoenix being born again.

India, rise,

rise like a forsaken lover decides to rise again,

India, rise,

rise like that farmer who decides to sow his crop again.

India, rise,

rise like that broken employee on your Monday morning.

India, rise,

rise like your army of cobblers, technicians and potters.

India, rise,

rise again like the smell from Kabir's dead body, which was nothing but flowers.

India, rise,

rise again like those Maoists, Separatists, Jihadists, who are your grown-up children." 

But, India,

PLEASE, for fuck sake,

don't sing me those moony lullabies again.

Don't tell me what I can't do,

for all that I do, is for you.

Tell me where I can go,

But don't block my way,

I'll fucking break through anyway,

India,

be my lover, my mother, my man, my bro,

But please, please, don't copy paste on me your worthless fuckadabadus.

India,

you are my only one,

and I know I am one of your only billions,

Don't piss me off India or cut me out.

India,

be mine, and I'll be yours

like lovers, sisters, daughters, brothers, mothers, fathers and the rest of them all, 

we'll roam on your shores

till infinity...