Pyare Ram Ji, as you return to the Saryu,

You might consider the following few

Facts: not far from where you are,

A little girl of five died silently of hunger

Because she only had a Ration Card,

But no Aadhar. Just so that you know

Why she could not say happy Diwali to you.

 

Many a farmer, who never miss their

Puja, take to the hangman’s rope

Because those they feed  

Give them praise and promise

But little cause for hope that while

Small and big money-lenders shower

Fat-cat defaulters with gold, the only

Power the farmer has to overcome

His strife is to take his own life.

 

This other girl who looks dazed

Had joyous dreams of welcoming you

With sweets, lights, and trinkets,

Until she was gang-raped by four

Of her kin — good men of fame, devoted

To you, and willing to kill in your name.

The police told her what a bad girl she

Must have been to lure four good

Men to their unwanted sin.

 

The one per cent who roll out

The red carpet for you, as opposed

To millions who bear silent

Reverence for your coming, are

Men of heft and health; they

Possess sixty per cent of the

Nation’s wealth — an ugly fact

Which they fudge by loudly

Proclaiming Rama Raj.

 

Pyare Ram Ji, you have much

To do, beginning with chastising

Those unprincipled brokers who

Think nothing of peddling you.

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