Open Letter To Sick Pm By Old Anna Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

It merits nothing to be a dummy ruler,
In this poor nation, with corrupt courtiers,
Tutored by a white queen, you rule and be-fool,
Unequal laws unto a hungry nation and race,
That mints money, sleep, and eat, and care not nation and poor.
Alas! You are enjoying power; and sucking lives.
In your life you have enjoyed greatly with no work,
Both with those elected you, and alone
And when corruption and terrorism, vexing the tired nation.
You are become a name; for always living for power,
All you have seen and got, - power, pleasure and name;
But deserve not least, but honored by all, -
And drunken delight of power with sycophants peers,
On this hungry and thirsty land.
You are a cause of that entire nation suffered;
Yet all whitening failed to fill the bellies, of hungry and thirsty.
How shameful is to clinch chair till,
To rust shamelessly, not to act honestly!
As though to breathe is life! Life has given you greatly,
But you shamed life, little left;
But every hour left from that eternal silence,
Do something, to bring new hopes;
And shame it is to remain on chair and loot,
And this gray spirit crying to chair like a sinking star,
Beyond the last limits of human thought.
This is my clan, mine own, to whom I cannot leave the chair, -
Spoiled by me, incapable to fulfill this task,
By tired laws to make sick and rugged people, civilized;
Make them to the useful and the good.
They are innocent, lost in the rut of common duties,
Intelligent and not to fail, in action if disciplined,
And ready to take charge when you are gone.
Lost in corrupt whirls and fail to excel,
They see the task; time makes them perfect to march;
To clear the gloom from the sky.
My countrymen have suffered, work, and thought with me, -
Those with a happy heart have welcomed the thunder and the sunshine,
And fought wrongs and corrupts, -
you and I are old; old age has its honor.
Death closes all; but some noble before the last call,
May yet be done, not unlikely in the land of Ram and Krishna.
The lord of death may bless you any time;
The sun sets; the slow moon and stars mourns with sad voices.
Come, it is better to be late than never.
Kick off, and shed lust for power for some high purpose;
Act to purge yourself beyond the sunset, and the last bath;
Until you leave this power gulfs;
It may be that you touch the lofty names,
And meet the great Bose, Azad and Pratap, we know.
You have got more you deserve from life,
We are not now that strength which in golden days
Attracted the world, that which we were, we were, -
Names of great and heroic hearts,
Made weak by corruption and misdeeds, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.