Hey Fruit! (Scientific name Prickly-Kejriwal)
Get a life, climb a tree or get lost from where you came from. Four weeks back when I left the country you were plastered on my TV screen waving arms, screeching revolution. Back from my travels you are still stuck on my screen like a squashed bug.
Get a life man… chase a girl, settle in a job or better still….. dab some after shave because you smell rank corruption and decay. We are also fruits of a garden growing the way we want, some turning to weed…. but not to worry…. because the gardener comes in every day and he is quite capable of uprooting those who have gone to weed, if not seed. But you are a mutated fruit born of frustration and ambition that had devolved further into a pesticide or pest that has taken on the self-appointed task of uprooting the weed.
We are fruits that have ripened and perished in this garden for centuries and we know, from experience, that you will remove the top soil, inject your deadly poison deep in the ground so that the earth will turn barren and, forget a fruit, not even a blade of grass would grow in the ground anymore.
We know your ambition to turn our garden into an alien Tahrir square, to import a deadly seed that will destroy the fertility of our home grown garden. We see the danger and we cry for help but, alas, the gardener has gone to sleep and left the garden unattended.
But an unknown force girdles and protects our garden and the fresh earth from decay. This same force earlier swept away the deadly ill winds of ‘total revolution’ and ‘garibi hatao’ because it sensed that behind the socialist spray, lay quiet and still the deadly serpent, looking for a new home, a new garden for his stay.
Mutated fruit born of artifice…. you will have your day, ripen beyond belief like an ill wind holding sway. But the fruit will burst, the wind die down and it would end abruptly, one day very soon, the same way it had sprung up and begun to blow in without warning or even a moment’s delay.