Mughals The Great Poem by Thinker Shah

India was wallowing in darkness
And needed an enlightening lord;
From Farghana marched the Mongol
With his peaceful Chagatai horde.

To two great souls, Timur and Chengiz,
The first Mughal did his ancestry trace;
His mission was to teach and reform India,
So backward and such a basket case!

The top Mughal was ousted from Samarkand;
Even his elder sister he couldn't save.
But after all, he was a great Morghul,
And hence must be considered brave!

From good booze to young boys,
He loved all of life's pleasurable things.
He marched in with the heavy onus
Of teaching them to dumb Indian kings!

He taught good food, dress, and culture,
And some new monuments he built.
In this process, if he took care of a few,
Where do the historians see his guilt?

His reformer son, the second Mughal,
Was, however, not quite as lucky, though.
The Afghans whipped his backside;
He fled to Persia, third Mughal in tow.

The unwashed and uncouth Indians
Still needed to be taught and tutored.
Persian aid saw the second Mughal back;
The uncouth challengers were all neutered.

On a fateful day, the unlucky Mughal
Tripped on the stairs and took a tumble.
Soon he was pushing up the daisies,
But the teach-India mission didn't crumble.

On the unlettered but 'great' third Mughal
Lay the onerous duty to teach the unrefined:
To teach music, taxation, love, management,
Nine chosen hidden 'gems' were mined.

He tried to spread his love universally;
His harem had ladies of every type.
He did redeem women of every ethnicity,
Every religion, every nation, every tribe.

The Mughal harem knew no boundaries.
In its strong and well-guarded confines
Lived 300 women the 'Great' had married
And about five thousand concubines.

Mughal reformation was in full bloom;
Recalcitrant irritants were subdued.
Malwa, Mewad, Gujarat, and Bengal,
Nothing could the peace juggernaut elude.

The fourth guy was a weak, wussy Mughal;
The peace mission stalled for a while.
Too much communion with Roe-Hawkins
Actually cramped the grand Mughal style.

Then came his son, the fifth Mughal;
He was as ineffectual as his dad.
He did build a grand cenotaph at Agra
And grieved for his wife, really sad.

Now comes the austere saint Mughal,
Who'd be Audrey Truschke's muse.
Peace and tranquillity scaled a zenith;
None will ever be able to fill his shoes!

Though he is called a fratricidal man,
Castigated as a wily holy oath-breaker,
Actually, he loved his brothers too much
And hence made them meet their maker.

He fought tedious battles and wars;
The Mughal Empire was on a roll.
He never meant any harm to anyone;
The real goal was population control.

The sixth Mughal's scions do not matter;
The pinnacle of Indian glory was reached.
New dress, food, super-huge graves,
Mission 'Change India' was achieved.

Education, samosas, and the Taj Mahal,
Melons, manners, nice Anarkali dress;
They taught us how to count and trade,
The Mughals were behind our every success.

A new light spread through the dark country;
The mighty Mughals did change our fate.
But some ungrateful Sanghi Indians
Don't find such charitable Mughals great!