They Call Themselves Ph.Ds./ They Too Are Ph.Ds. Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

They call themselves Ph.Ds., but I know it, what they are,
How their Ph.Ds.,
Are they original Ph.Ds. or duplicate Ph.Ds.,
How have they got it,
From which market,
Which China Market
Of smuggled, pirated, unlicensed and imported goods,
Take that but it will not last,
Just for your temporary satisfaction
As the longevity is not
Warranteed or guaranteed,
Take that at your risk,
Isn’t it?

How have they manipulated and manouvred the things
In their favour,
Bargaining and buying,
Bungling and buttering,
Oiling and cringing the guide, I mean the supervisor,
The internal examiner
Whose report also counts
In the award of the degree,
The mastermind behind it all,
The ring-leader keeping the animals,
Training them,
Bringing to a circle.

They call themselves Ph.Ds, but I know it which is whose,
Who is whose guide,
Which is whose thesis,
How has one,
My Ph.D. your Ph.D.,
His Ph.D. mine,
We all have made two into four,
Multiplying, adding and subtracting from
The mother thesis of the guide,
The master copy of which
Locked under his possession,
Stitching the tattered and pale sheets and notes of paper
To produce some more Ph.Ds.