“A strange darkness has come upon the world today.”
― Jibanananda Das, translated by Clinton B. Seely
Swarms of people in a disfigured realm
a strange republic of mobocracy
Black marks of piety on their foreheads
radiating a dark cloud
which puts a transparent burka
on the naked body of corruption,
deceit, oppression, and plundering
Visible even to the blind in the blinding darkness
Despots run a round of musical chairs
It’s kind of a Hunger game
Winners destroy the losers,
ablaze in the wretched pile
the pile of smelly lipids of wealth,
towers of pride, narcissism, …
The ugly cycle of dystopia repeats
The fake prophet lies,
Bathes in corruption
Blood of sacrificial bovine drenches
the mesmerized streets
Secreted pus of magical maggots,
Grow on the putrid bovine blood
Like wingless nymphs
Transmogrifying into invisible wings
O, the swarm of locusts invade
the surreal realm of the mutilated brush
where freedom was hiding
in strange thickets of reed bushes
The green pigeons, doves, and swans
Ran away from the speechless lake
The mob revels in ecstasy.
The Lungi dance of Bollywood declares
the victory of demolition, arson, and riots
The false Prophet
plays the board game
with worthless zeros
