How dare, he demolish, our piety’s myth
The so-called, “Great Soul”, Mahatma
We’d, deified to death, this mean megalith
British Raj’s, enigma, Hindustan’s stigma!

What more, could the queen, desire of him
Her henchman, whose, hollow non-violemce
And India’s, blind belief, in his, every whim
For her reign, was more than, Life Insurance!

Whilst India, bathed in, Hindu gore
For his plan, severed, our sovereign soul
O’er Hindu Heart, stepfather, swore
“Hindus, must bear, their brethren’s, toll”

He suckled, jihadis, blood, of his heart
As Hindus, braced for, their dead-end
True Bonaparte, Slayed, a Faux Mozart
Yes! Godse, Was, Indeed Godse-nd !

© 2022 Vikas Chandra