#JustSaying

Illustration/Uday Mohite

Smoke screen
Smoke screen,
we're dedazzled,
for a moment, unfrazzled,
a nation believes,
in its billion dreams,
a billion nightmares,
a million screams,
forgotten,
shrouding a clamouring silence,
the leash is short,
our bark softens,
as the bite sharpens,
we're muzzled,
the eternal jigsaw puzzle,
and our young,
heroes and heroines, unsung,
youth, watching the uncouth,
watching the regression,
the oppression,
will they leave the gloom,
or will a million flowers bloom,
but for now…
hello darkness, my old fiend.

ED, meenie, money mo
ED, meenie, money, mo,
catch the launderer by the toe,
while he weakens, don't let him go,
ED, meenie, money, mo.

Boycott this, boycott that
Boycott this, boycott that,
boycott this, boycott that,
boycott Bollywood,
Twitter out of con-troll,
boycott this, boycott that,
cancel culture,
by loser vultures,
#BoycottBollywood,
Really?
So, my question to
you herd of haters…
this loathing in your pores.
How much more?
Your next target?
What's the aim?
To maim?
Defame?
Disclaim?
Cause shame?
Five minutes of fame?
Is it empty halls you seek?
Make the industry weak
Over-zealous, dear zealot?
Or plain jealous?
Too much time on your hands?
Why you bitter?
Love-hate the glitter?
Make them grovel?
While you gloat...
Get them on their knees
Even ‘Sholay', faces your ire
Wanna douse the ‘Fire'?
When will it end?
Till the next negative trend?
Boycott this, boycott that,
boycott Bollywood,
and feel jolly good,
cut your nose,
to spite your face.

You've hurt my sentiments
The garland on your door,
I'm offended.
The rangoli on your floor,
I'm offended.
You know you snore?
I'm offended.
Your views on war?
I'm offended.
Called me a bore?
I'm offended.
What you draw.
I'm offended.
Is it me you ignore?
I'm offended.
Is it me you abhor?
I'm offended.
You're worth a crore.
I'm offended.
I'll break your jaw.
I'm offended.
You insulted my God.
I'm offended.
You ogled at my bod.
I'm offended.
Why you shovelling dirt?
I'm offended.
My sentiments are hurt.
I'm offended.

He was thirsty
He was thirsty,
so you burst his ear drum,
throat parched,
ear punched,
drank from the wrong tap,
got an almighty slap.
Is that how it works, sir?
Spare the rod, destroy the child?
Teacher teacher,
pupil beater,
he was 9, just 9,
looked up to you,
looking to learn,
full of trust,
could have stood first,
instead his ear drum lay burst,
1,300 kms they travelled,
13 hospitals,
all in vain,
the blame game has begun,
the rats are out,
sniffing their opportunities,
the fires are raging,
the boy's been cremated,
still issues being debated.

Grandmaster
Praggu, Praggu,
wanna hug u,
Carlsen wants to slug u,
drug u,
mug u,
basically de bug u,
you're just 17,
you know what I mean,
the way you play,
is way beyond compare,
you sit there,
prodigy,
strategy,
grandmaster,
check, mate.

Serb and volley
Djokokvic,
misses out,
yet another slam,
McEnroe called it ‘a joke',
indeed ‘djoko',
‘tis a joke,
dude, just take the shot,
we'll miss those shots,
let him play,
US open…
don't be so closed.

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com