PROF BADRI RAINA
Nepal, dear civilizational pal,
Yours is a grievous tale;
But not as fell, you will concede,
As Salman headed for jail.
And all for mowing down a few
Unruly laborites
Who cussedly the pavement choose
To luxuriate their nights.
It is true that the howl is up—
Punish not a star
Upon whom rides the hard-earned wealth
Of tycoons near and far;
But so skewed now our values are
That urchins mown on a pavement
Have more mistaken takers than
A Salman in six-pack raiment.
And judges—they will chastise
A playful celebrity,
Rather than the dogs for having been
Where they should not be.
All is topsy turvy now
In the Republic of razzmataz,
Those that are best off dead
The living gods do chase.
