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My Saddest Tale, Ever So Pale

Every year in the month of March, 
I'd bring home, a bagful of books and the scent of familiar starch, 
Once I'd masked with plastic sheet, I'd sense my heart beat, 
As labels and stickers would summarize my yearly feat. 
A burst of energy swiveled across my body, 
In a few days, I was to become a scholarly somebody. 
Samuel Adams and Christopher Columbus, 
They may all wait, with them would Oedipus. 
With what I read back then, 
I would mostly outperform my peers, 
Now as I begin to write, I sit amidst a cesspool of tears.

Very soon you will, dear readers if any,
Be introduced to a gargantuan globe hinged by many.
During later years at crossing vectors and dotting differential equations,
My History, Geography and Economics, floated across vesting nations.
I drew the world map, this time I was twenty four,
Sat with a histogram and outlined to each its own score.
That's when I found my country, pleading for more,
Superpowers of yore, Maxim Guns and diamonds they adore.

Akbar abolished the Jaziyah, Hindus called him their Messiah,
A spoiling Alamgir tore it all apart, hence invited Nadir Shah.
Plassey set stage for Fort William, as he stole the Kohinoor,
Exposing the whole world to the weakly Indus moor,
The Kohinoor now passed to the East India Company,
These proceedings, they plightingly eyed in Germany,
While Beethoven weaved his uncanny symphony.
Industrial Revolution in Europe, they all appeared sunny.
Americas basked in overthrown caffeine,
We're taxed enough already, leave us alone you grouchy Queen.

The Silk Route no longer lured into spices and dry fruits,
As they trampled hundreds of peasants with their hiked taxing boots,
In Africa, they called them Beasts of Burden,
While they journeyed into the Sahara mainland, raising the siren.
Divided and Ruled back in India, they settled permanently,
With Rowlatt Acts, they overthrew the intelligentsia far from gently.
Pakistan, Bangladesh and such brethren,
Stood partitioned, lending candles to victims of 9/11.

And this world tagged you malign incarnation, Adolf Hitler,
I sometimes ask doubtingly, my weary old Staedtler.
If Victoria still suntans in the British Museum,
We Indians had once served to be an auxilium.
Ted and Eisenhower, owe gratitude to the Eiffel Tower,
Moscow, Leningrad and the brave Stalingrad, all beseech lost power.

Thought I perhaps they'd drafted no constitution,
So they may resurrect from the resulting demolition,
With changes that'd keep the Spirit of Jesus alive,
Till I realized, it's certainly not what made the Kingdom drive,
I'd heard of the Last Judgment in a more sombre tone,
Still they dig gravel with similar drivel, breaking each others' bone.

Those thirteen lost colonies, how they regained their land,
What they did later, now bears testimony to the deceased sand.
Started as a penetrating and trespassing jolt to the Jihadsoil,
Seen by most as a means to kaleidoscope into the Middle Eastern Oil.
Market Capital vanished, as the whole of Europe and America tarnished,
Deficient in common sense and responsible decision,
The world stood silent at the fall of a Great Recession.


Wall Street crashed, many more miseries bashed,
As America, Britain and other such economies slashed,
I cannot gauge now, where the world is headed to,

My lost Indus land, save me a place and add my word or two.

Comments

Unknown said…
very good and sad all at once.Awesome work!
Anonymous said…
You use great passion in history, personal viewpoints and world err in your writings. This is a strong talent and much appreciated!! Keep it up!! =)
Anonymous said…
Really good! Keep writing, you have a talent for it

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