The Greatest Gujarati
I was born as a refugee from Karachi
Rolled through Delhi with his army,
Indoctrinated and impassioned, en route
To rescue Ram, to raise his spirit.
Call me Advani's accident, then- my
Mother reached the hospital by slipping
Through the cracks of the Sindhi god,
The man meant to save us all from secularism
And its related ailments, who failed. Our
Sins, and values, and constitution lived on
Surviving even the hand of Ram, and his kar
Sevaks, monkey soldiers reincarnated.
But it is Gujaratis, not Sindhis, after all, who
Make Indian history. And in our haste we
All forgot that Ram is dead, and dead forever.
That our hero was younger, bearded perhaps,
Charioted, a he-man, not a sadhu. There is
Only one saviour left, and it is him. His
Coming was prophesized, after all, for who
Has not heard of Kalki?
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