The Histrionics Of Arvind Kejriwal, A Great Nukkad Artiste Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

I think he chuckles
When is alone,
Taking the things to ruminatiom
What he has done,
How has he jammed the wheels
Of the doyens of Indian politics
Who had a say someday,
How has now time changed,
A leader of the common men
He has grown into,
I mean a voice
Of the speechless and the wordless,
Really not less than in stature
He might be thinking it
When before a mirror
Posing with
His specs, AAP white topi
With the bill,
Sharing with his wife.

Perhaps from the hostel he learnt
This nukkad plays
And their enactment,
Where he used to beat the dishes and plates
Before taking the midday meal,
Passing time to suppress the hunger of the belly
Till food is served
And from their he brought that music
Of the hostel boys and girls
Joking, playing and living,
Improvising to be famous,
How does a great man appear to be
Adjusting the specs?

He is none but a morning walker of Indian politics,
One in the Bermudas,
A hostel boy, a boarder of a school
Dancing, palying and living,
The broomstick and the bamboo basket
Are just for doing politics,
Not for sweeping the roads,
His remix of it
A study in Gandhism, socialism
And Mulk Raj Anand’s Coolie novel
And his commonmanliness
An elaboration of Gray’s Elegy
And Auden’s The Unknown Citizen.