Anhad ka Baaja

The Caliph, Haroun-al-Raschid The Commander of the Faithful Used to walk the streets of Baghdad By night Incognito To feel the pulse of his people Were someone like him, To walk the streets of

Big Brother’s foreign Cousins Are fawning and gushing Bending over backwards and All criticism they are shushing The American Cousin Brother Invites him to dinner Can’t he take a close look And tell

The muezzin is calling the faithful to prayer The temple is blaring its loudest song I’ve been away from home too long The mangoes taste so, so insipid The best ones are exported to, yes, Hong Kong

Like the Janissaries Enslaved by the sultan As boys To follow his religion To do his bidding To fight his wars All of us are Enslaved as children By the process of schooling To accept “the system” As

Five rich men drown: The news makes headlines All over the world “Our hearts go out to Their families and loved ones” Five hundred poor men drown: Or was it six hundred? Or four hundred? Do our

Big Brother’s silences Are truly eloquent They mean so much more Than his speeches meant I could stop right here And people would know Exactly how I feel About Big Bro But bear with me  Gentle