SUMMER OF DISCONTENT

Seated pleasurably in the hot-seats
in coats, suits and ties
around round tables
even in scorching summer
simultaneously missing
no chances to throw
dirt at our colonial past and its
hangovers,
subservience to the erstwhile
colonialists
a feather in the cap
holding Lord Macaulay in reverence
a cross-section of our
society
plays second-fiddle
quite often.
Hypocrisy or no hypocrisy
when it come to the roost
none's business
go on casting thunders
storms and downpour
on the polluted land
of our colonial legacy
converting it into swamps and swamps
with pollutants and effluents
gradually inundating it
even our transparent
smooth flowing rivers
rivulets and streams of
rich cultural heritage and
age-old traditions
about which once
we chanted hymns,
still the mechanical chanting
going on as a ritual
forefeiting the legacy
of the past
if not all
something always left
behind to cherish
then only the present
could be relevant
and the future too.