Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Ode to The Mumbai Cop

You stand in the scorching sun,
Blowing your whistle,
Holding your baton,
Making wild gestures in the air,
Arguing with guys who have tommy guns in their heads.
No decent pay, all of us barking and honking away,
Cutting lanes, jumping signals,
When you are not around, law is not for us, for you to keep.
No good food to eat, no place where you can eat your wives prepared home cooked meal.
We are not just the ones, there are the V ones.
as many V's you can add in front of the democratic IP's
Both you and me are hapless in front of their red beacons of niceties,
It is time we tax payers too gave you a break,
Forced our guys at the legislatures to hike your pays,
Made them pass some sensible legislation,
To equip you well, not only with proper weapons,
Choppers the flying ones, and state of the art what nots,
But also allowed you to live as fellow humans,
So that you can live and rest well,
In turn to service us with pride and care,
Because I am convinced,
That the best police,
Is the Mumbai Police,
As long as we give you folks,
Some decent break from horses that trot.

Submitted: Saturday, March 23, 2013

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