Waiting for you, Mahatma

Stand I here as a South Asian,
Meditating on our salvation.
Proud I am of Gandhiji's birth
But feeling ashamed of not being its worth!
That beacon of light finished our nights
And brought a ray of hope in our plight.
He left us all five decades ago,
Having entrusted independence and a goal!
Hailing Hindutva and crying foul,
A fanatic killed that great soul.
Howled and lamented and cursed him we
Only to join him later and a killer to be!
Mahatma must be turning in his heavenly bed,
Curious to know what came of his beloved land.
Powerful ’leaders' and prominent folks
Fill him in on their present-day hoax!
First goes our politician brother
To sum up the achievements to nation's father:
"Bapuji, we enjoy fruits of independence
Although some losers are in great repentance.
Democracy works perfect for us;
All we need is lot of money and guns!
We, politicians, mean business,
And power, I swear, is a killer product!
Remember we drove out the British
But kept their trains and English?
Now we bring them all back again
To have more machines and to train.
We never forget you, Bapuji,
In elections, you are our protege!
We know your values in politics
And the anti-colonial policies.
About that we have no polemics;
Only that times have changed, Bapuji!"
Then came the businessmen in western suite
To present their case and pay tribute:
"Hello, father of nation, how are you?
How much worth are you now?
You know, father, the mistake you did?
We should have kept the British trade.
East India Company was not that bad
And dollar and sterling were doing well.
Why worry about the past,
And talk of things that have passed?
Sure that time we did lack the guts,
But now we've joined the powerful GATT!
Prosperity is at our door;
And problems we have no more!"
Then came the brainy bureaucrats
With professionally prepared full reports.
A deliberation meeting they got on
And their discussions went on and on.
Produced a mother of all reports
That shows to the system their support.
"Oh, Great Sire! Have you no concern whatever,
Since we are so watchful forever!
We are number one in scary plague disease,
And no one else equals in terrible deaths.
Our schools teach rural kids calculus;
Our clinics make the sick run for life;
The police protect thieves and rogues;
And the courts keep them all quite close.
Radicals complain of corruption and graft
Not knowing a bit about the statecraft!"
Military officers walked in next
With a gift of bullet proof vest.
Saluted Bapu with meaningless shouts
And sought to clear all his doubts.
"Western weapons we procure;
With vigil the borders we secure;
Plenty of enemies we confront
More and more dangerous on all fronts.
Let us make one thing very clear,
For ultimate security we've gone nuclear!
Everyone is safe, sound and secure,
At least that's the case in the military!"
Next in the line was Doctor Do-nothing,
Professor in the University of See-nothing.
Author of books on unknown planets;
Big name and friends with business magnets;
Fostered ideas and fathered articles
On every imaginable heavenly particles.
Catching his glasses and scratching his beard,
The intellectual great talked so weird.
"Mahatma, the world is almost dead;
What we need now is a brilliant head!
To put the world and humanity ahead,
We have theories written and theories read!"
Thus spake and left the "wiseman"
And on his heels were a few "Godsmen."
Filled with hatred divine and sacred revenge,
They held out a list of enemies to avenge:
"Hindu God bless you, Mahatma,
And the Minority God is a Duratma!
Reviving the Vedic archaeology,
We've discovered more temple sites.
Greater and holier are our daily tasks
To demolish all the Muslim mosques!
They have Atom Bombs in Pakistan,
So we need more for Hindus and Hindustan!"
Finally came there a poor woman
And the prominent men pushed her to go away.
Exalted and excited in great joy,
She screamed: "Let me talk to my boy!"
Beckoned Gandhiji the old boys to leave
And asked: "Mother, are you in grief?"
Holding his hands and wiping her tears
Sobbed the Mother that death is near.
"Come and be born in my womb again
So the helpless subcontinent may stand to gain!
The powerful are fast losing brain
And the powerless just scream in vain!"
"Second birth is the sweetest son
And the first one is always a bit docile.
Birds come out in a bonded shell
And break it open to fly very high.
Seeds come as tiny drops
Then strike roots to reach for the sky.
Buddha was born again under Bo;
For Ashoka, it was the Kalinga field.
Moses was born again on Mount Sinai;
For Prophet Mohammed, it was Medina."
"Come and be born in my womb again
So the helpless subcontinent may stand to gain!
The powerful are fast losing brain
And the powerless just scream in vain!"
"Maitreya Buddha says he would come
To save the world, the human home!
Kalki, the avatar of Vishnu, too
Says he would come anytime soon.
Doesn't Jesus of Nazareth in Palestine
Say he'd be here in second coming?"
"Come and be born in my womb again
So the helpless subcontinent may stand to gain!
We will seek to remove the decadence
And strive for our second independence!"
"Come and be born once again
We hold our breath for that, Mahatma!"