With the golden hammer and the unused sickle
He just reached from China with his troop
With great oval hips and fake tits.
He said his land is another Cuba
But without Castro
With all the death in the morgues
With the naked mothers
With great boxers and great traditions.
And his voice raised
Like he was in an election campaign
And there a man shone on the stage
With his lipstick and necklace
With his face half covered
Imitating the dancing courtesan Rekha
And how her heart beat
In the beats of tabla.
And there the Cuban ambassador
Smelling the garland of flowers
He wore in his wrist
Smoking the Havana cigar
Blowing smoke in east and west
Like once he advertised Guevara
Like he did with Cuban medicine.
And the culture savior spoke
“This is how we save our integrity”
Even if he doesn’t know how to save it
With other ethnic groups in his land
And Chacha Nehru rose from the bushes
In the smell of Nupishabi
In the clinking sound of his bangles
Chacha hit his own chest with his fist
And said “this is it
This is what I missed in my "discovery of India"
I must rewrite it again
I must rewrite it again”
And the culture saviour felt in Nehru’s feet
Leaving behind his rusted sickle to the dying peasants
And said “Sir! I belong to the Jewel Of India”