Anti-Corruption Day Poem by Ajit Das

What did you say: Anti-corruption Day?
Don’t be silly; you must be joking.
Why do you dig up the archaic word: anti,
spoiling the cocktail of my morning tea:
flavour of Darjeeling, aroma of corruption,
fomented by glaring media captions?

Your crawling out of mother’s belly
is not enough to prove you are born;
it needs a proof acquired with bribe.
You pay donation to get admission
for that fake passport: education;
then secure a job by greasing palms,
you don’t know, of how many persons.

A license, a permit, a ration card,
a bed in a public ward or even a place
in the endless queue of life, if you want,
you’ll get it – only pay the price.
And when this mortal journey is over,
don’t think you can exit life unnoticed;
you still need proof with a price tag again.

Why do you bother and tear your hair?
It is a sore that will fester, stink every day,
bringing down the system with its load
or explode, paving the way for a new order.