The National Satire

You came and you witnessed.

We conquered.

We(?) won.

You sang in harmony

The victory cry of the nation.

We never took claim

For we were Indians first.

You stood up

For Tagore's composition.

You stand up till date,

And yet conscience lies asleep

Without standing up

To ill fate.

From Plassey to Amphan,

Betrayal paved the way,

For united was just a word

That veiled separatism.

The nation looked on then

At a capital strong,

Yet when it was in shambles,

Integrity went void.

"We the people" took pride

In a state's assets,

Yet a greater pride

In a farcical affection;

Fakery so astounding,

Countrymen grew rebellious

Towards the country itself.

Love so fallacious,

Hatred sprouted the seeds

Of a marginalized realization.

You glittered with delight

When a mother from the east

Selflessly strived for peace.

You gloated over the literature

That brought us the Nobel.

When Chicago hushed in awe,

You beamed with contentment.

You jumped in exhilaration

When a shirt swayed in Lord's.

Ignorance persisted still,

Concurrently breeding hypocrisy,

As through it all

You reveled in the aroma,

As we bled to create it.

We breathe the red hue

As Indian soil,

As our western relatives

Stand deaf to our cries.

Partition lies within

Every fervent national boast,

As an imaginary demarcation

Marked by selfish propaganda.

Satire prevailed again

As the "bongs who were at it"

Earned recognition in the field

That runs in crisis.

The economy went frail,

And now yet frailer,

Delivered but the doomed,

Ironically not the economic capital.

Media encased the bloody hue

Of corpses in the rampage,

With that of the tint

In the sky that saw death.

Plundered were we under siege,

We see no difference post freedom.

After all, you relish on our sweets

And we reciprocate smiles,

For we were taught fraternity

While you preached ignorance.

Unimaginable is the abhorrence

Running through our veins,

As we pen down as a territory

With "Indian" in our names.

Tweets entered like the final pumps

To save what has ceased.

Havoc was within the nation,

Yet the nation slept at ease.

It amuses us now

To see your ironical audacity,

To brag of our intellectual ancestry,

Yet strand us

When unity calls for it most,

And brand us with insults

Using intellectuality as the taunt.

We fought as "us",

We survived as "us",

Yet when the need arose,

"We" took different routes.

I know the fallacy

Existing in my homeland,

For it resides in my poem,

As I address with "our",

Not India, but Bengal.