May 17, 2000
Pardon the pun, or the attempt thereof,
The intention was only to elicit a laugh.
No laughing matter though, has been this current to-do
Since, Delhi Police managed to pull off the coup.
A flurry of articles, comments and thoughts,
On how bad the world is, and how cricket rots.
Maudlin, is what we are, and for a while will be
There's got to be a way out of this state so sorry.
I plead guilty too, hell at least someone does!
Not that I'm the cause of this unholy buzz.
When heros are defiled, fans do get irrational
Hero-worship is no more a love unconditional.
That however, is not what I want to say.
'tis the sayers role that I want to assay
All of us writers, who want to have a word
On any issue, we swoop like them birds.
Even a vulture pounces only on the belief
That the creature it eats is dead, not asleep.
Why are we crueler, and callouser than that?
So hungry for stories, we never look back.
Does the media want to know better?
Absorb knowledge unfettered?
Or is the confusion more to their taste
Can we let acrimony go to waste?
Man is attracted to evil, unwittingly so
Plain old information, that just won't go.
Heck, we love to know if the Joneses are fighting,
And if we can add some fire, makes it all the more exciting.
Cover stories on stories, the stands look the same
Excuses and accusations, still sounding lame.
Tell me the truth, cut them down to size
Just don't keep telling me why the other idiot lies.
As long as we print their stories, and let 'nothing' rule
They won't say much more, we'll still be taken for fools.
Don't know if I'm simply blaming the messenger here
But what gets me complaining is that thing they call fear.
Maybe I'm scared, my convictions may be proven wrong
Maybe who I think is right, may not have been all along.
But maybe 'tis better I know that now, than wait for the truth to unfold,
Sad endings, notwithstanding, most stories are best when told.