Economics Poem by Sathya Narayana

A white-bearded stalwart
is eloquent on T.V;
waving hands vigorously,
sometimes looking
skywards
often pressing his chin
with palms;
saying something like
macro-economics,
global economy,
Phillip curve,
Marginalism...
a recondite jargon...
a bombastic abracadabra
blah, blah, blah!

Another economist
with popped-up eyes
looking through
his gold-rimmed glasses
on the open page
of a news paper
is saying
he can avert another
economic depression.

One more egg-head
on a plump book's
back wrapper
is saying "Here're theories
to dispel poverty! "

I switch to another
channel
and listen someone
saying
"We're in hopeless
condition! "

I come out of my room,
take a long look
at the slums bordering
my town,
a beggar limping
on the road
and a fruit hawker
rolling his cart,
looking at the hot Sun
once in every minute.

I wondered "What's
wrong
with these theories;
where err these
academics
and where's pilfering
the tax-payers hard-earned money? "

I thought of a common,
illiterate farmer
who saves his silos
spending just ten rupees:
he uses rat poison.