Sometimes in the epics, demons fall on heroes as they pass through forests– like the thugs who grabbed you, late night, from a bus stop– they took you to the station, gave you to the police, who tried to extract money from you and your family. It is an age-old racket– you had stolen nothing, they had no cause to beat you.Comments closed
Somebody planted ten letters, it seems, on Rona Wilson’s computer, and then police came and took him away, and later they took many others. We don’t know who planted the letters, my friends, but they raise an important question: will anyone dare to investigate those who led the investigation?Comments closed
—‘Na Khaunga, na Khane Dunga’
Yes,
accepting or offering bribes or kickbacks,
or giving contracts or jobs to friends or family,
but also,
instructing or allowing the police to fabricate
charges against people who oppose you,
and refusing to investigate those you favour.
(Graft hidden in suitcases
or banks in far off lands,
or improper use of office
to enhance your party’s brand;
craving for wealth or power,
is usually its cause—
it spawns lies, hunger, fear,
and disregard for laws.)
Comments closedJust three weeks ago, on the way
to the polling station
we saw a single, half-eaten
myna bird lying in the road.
Neither of us mentioned it;
the air was already
so heavy that day.
I no longer trust omens
and portents:
just last week, I dreamt
that Amit Shah was in jail,
but last night, I’m sure
I heard him whispering
in Kejriwal’s ear.