We fight over petty matters, our leaders take big bribes
About N Madhavan
He has flown off his nation, but the dubious glory does not fade
Lalit fights his battles from the beaches of Montenegro
When he is not holidaying, he is stirring up an ugly row!
The Other Modi, shall we call him now?
He’s always in the news when push comes to shove
An iron fist lurks behind his velvet glove
Gives prime-time its grist and grime, somehow!
A Tharoor lost his job, and it was all out on Twitter
Before we could sense that glitter rhymed with litter
The folks were glam but their fights were quite bitter
Our Modi showed he was anything but a quitter
He midwifed the IPL, posed with cheerleaders
Turned cricket into a game of horse-breeders
Money flowed easy, and there were parties and fun
(though the gentleman’s game faced a gun!)
But there was a twist in the tale, when its czars fought
Mr. Modi was sent back to his desert state’s drought
In flew missiles on his financial deals
Cricket turned chess – with wheels within wheels!
The folks who said this Modi was a meanie
Found a big beast in the redoubtable Srini
One thing led to the other, and our man was in London
The star of cricket’s new glory, found himself undone
Cricket is India’s favourite game, but politics is bigger
Many netas were close to this venerable gold digger
As news abounds on his friends in high places
Karma comes back to haunt some famous faces!
He vows to sink all in a kiss-and-tell revenge
Ah, we wait to see politics take a new plunge
IPL may have been fixed, but this match looks real
So what if it looks ugly – and somewhat surreal?
In the city they call India’s Shanghai
The one that turned from Bombay to Mumbai
The name has changed in tune to keep up with the times
But nothing has changed in its slushy mess and slime
CMs have come and CMs have gone
In the city that sleeps at 3 a.m to wake up at dawn
The Sensex has shaken in its sleepless wake
But every year those rains threaten its fate
Rain, rain and still more rain!
Blocked on the ground — not enough drains
Some dying in its wake, others wading to survive
Struggling and striving to barely stay alive
Bollywood bustles here, with movies galore
Expats charm its penthouses, making money for sure
But netas and babus, honchos and tycoons
Have done little to fix the fury of the monsoons
Memories of a flooded July still linger in its veins
The day the roads turned rivers after rains
They hail its spirit: The Maximum City!
It still stays on the brink– oh, what a pity!
If it is Google, it must be a Doodle
But it’s Nestle now, and we have noodles
Born in Switzerland of Chinese design
And in India they say it’s just not fine [Read more]