Nehru- A Misplaced Icon Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

Born and brought up with all the riches,
Followed blindly missionary glitches,
Married to romantic, left, Islamic, preaching;
I always think and ponder on his Jesus leaning,
But see on weak and weary spot,
Over many a great and curious lot.

On his misplaced socialism, without horizon,
While I remain silent and frozen,
On all his great and glorious sales,
Presented to all and sundry with all the big tales,
Is it dream or reality or farce or nothing more?
In this poor nation, horror haunted- tell the true tale, I implore.

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak winter,
He donated big chunk of land to enemy China, in slumber:
Cheated upon the nation as Hind-Chini bhai-bhai,
From my books I learn t he created Kashmir troubles high,
For always follow radiant maidens and radiant boys,
Thrilled and filled all with fantastic terrors and joys.

Deep into that darkness peering, big nation stood, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no nation ever lost to dreaming;
But his size was unbroken, and the high talks remained only,
Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
For we cannot help agreeing that he was human but faster,
Brought for toiling, unhappy masses, unmerciful disaster.

But the ugly secular farce still beguiling all my fancy,
Then he planted rot and the air grew murkier, stinking palsy,
Swung by courtiers whose footfalls tinkled on the decked floor.
'Wretch, ' I cried, 'Why God has sent him – with his vulgar lore,
'God! ' cried I, 'thing of evil- but icon still, if leader or devil! -
Corrupt tempest sent, and tossed Nepal’s love without strong goal.

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this grieving land-
And the icon, never flitting, still is sitting, with his band,
On the gigantic bust every where just above parliament door;
And the lamp-post o'er him lighted dimly, throws his shadow on the floor.
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
The icon reading these lines is smart, classy but wrongly performing.