Money, Nor Is Meltdown For Him - Poem by Aniruddha Pathak
It matters to him little— this debate—
Moneybags panicking as markets slack,
Holding heist lamenting returning rate,
Fat rats that forsake first a sinking deck!
Diwali while dawns to him with cold chill,
Nightmarish, to forget like a frost cheer,
And still, let Sensex dip or scale at will,
A true veetashoka1—he’s yon all fear.
For, future is never vested in him,
Nor has he invested in morrow’s thrill,
For, world cares but for them that swim like cream,
Teeming with tonnes, begging to borrow still!
No crisis can cause him sonnets of strife2
Which, he’s weathered not once, all his sad life!
1. veetashoka: From Bhagavad-Gita (veeta=gone or
free from, shoka= sorrow) : a man unperturbed,
2. Sonnets of strife: I feel, every strife, like
a sonnet, comes with a definite scheme, structure,
and theme. The present economic crisis of
confidence stems from an over-riding greed of
the rich that, though teeming with tonnes, want
to over-borrow still.
Penned on the eve of Diwali; which in bad times and
not means little for the poor, especially in the face
of a financial crisis. Or is it that Diwali has a
meaning only for the poor? For, for the rich every
day is Diwali.
- Sonnets | 01.11.08 |
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