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.