Allen Ginsberg,

Under the surveillanceOf the Local committee, Zonal CommitteeAnd the District committee secretariesand membersAfter making party officesOn vested landsAnd subscriptions and donations.To hand the power over to the proletariatAnd the leadership to the bourgeoisAnd to mould and distort pubic opinionThe job of the communists,The comrades in bonhomieAnd the cadres regiment and levied,Oh, the belligerent and blatant…

Describing India as an alien insiderThough living in hereJust as the minorities.A poet of Bombay and its cityspace,The metropolitan not, the mega city,Its urban thought, culture and life,He is a good boyOf the goodbye party, the mrriage party, the tea party,Writing about the honeymoon,Handshake, ta-ta, bye-bye, thank you,Indian poverty and platforms.

Kept it viewing from farIn utter astonishment,The dark-veiled justWaved at, smiled to seeWith a flying kissGiven from her apartmentAnd I lost in playing HoliJust saw herAs a shadow passing,But there was love in her heartWhich but I could feel it.

Bogus and blunt men,Those who had not to be Ph.D. guides areAnd those who had to beAre not.My expertise is lying uselessThough they are using in my papersOn Jayanta Mahapatra, Keki N.Daruwalla,Contemporary Indian English poetryAnd D.H.Lawrence,But I am yet notA Ph.D. expert,An external examiner of the thesis.

Lifting the ghunghata, burka, purdahAnd saying her aapbeeti,What it happened to herDown the ages,A tale of torture and submissionTo violence.

Howling strangely,The blackly howler monkeysHowling into the forestsWith their deep-throated howlsAnd telling something.