We will crouch to kiss your paws
We your area boys
Just hand us our bundle of mints
And we shall sing your praises even in our sleep

We will wear your face on our chests
Grind in the streets to the songs of your name
We will glue your posters on our fences
Defacing the walls for our hero

But when you win and the 'Hurrays!' peter out
These posters will lose their gloss
After our tropical sun
And our heavy rains
Have rained on them
Though the fences heave in relief
Our skins will still glisten
With the snake oil you sold us

Then after your four years of pomp
Or – yes– even eight years of pageantry
Your vaunted name shall fizzle out
7Up left open for too long
Our eyes will squint in slow remembrance
As we shuffle through the files of our brains
To remember you,our hero past

And all your achievements–
Gaudy castles on quicksand
Will tilt and crumble
By just a slight poke of a gentle breeze

(image courtesy www.weekinbehia.com)


  1. mm... pitied tendency that is. Admire the reverse subtlety of your point here. Nice.


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