Our Democracy Poem by Kishore Asthana

Democracy,
The drama that we dream
Every few years
Nightmare follows
With us as the damned.

Our chosen ones
Recite an oath,
Raise their hand,
Laud their brand
And magically pronounce,
'We, are your rulers new.
All your powers
We take from you.'

That's it. That's it for us.
Powerless we wallow
In our nightmare.
Impotent till the next dream
And then,
Foolishly happy
We vote the same lot in
Or others, no different

With our power and our money
They do as they please
And we, isn't it funny?
Are proud of the disease!

'Shhh.., ' they say
To those who curse,
'We are the best.
The alternative is worse'

WAKE UP! I demand
Next dreamtime
You be a Wizard, too
Weave your own magic
India waits for you

Then, maybe, the Wand,
At least for a while
May not pass to the vile
And, finally,
Our land may smile