The excesses of yours,
You too had been a man
And you too had the limitations
Of your own.
Had the English been against, you would not have been
A leader of the world stature
And turned you into a paglet
As for them, the British,
Who recognized in you,
The talent of being the leader of the masses.
I like your pagletgiri, but not the overcolouring of it,
That you had been so much truthful,
That you experimented with truth,
The teacher asked you to copy down
And you copied it not,
This too not, Gandhiji.
You too had been a politician of some sort this way or that way,
Had you not politicked,
You would not have been a politician,
Honest, sincere, truthful, peaceful and non-violent,
So many adjectives to be given to,
But I am sure you were a politician.
Sometimes showed you honesty in excess spinning yarn,
But how much can one weave,
Can you arrange for the clothes of the Indians,
The whole population,
Am I right or in the wrong,
You say it please, Gandhiji?
Suppose you are doing a fast as for your demands
And the authority is unmindful of that,
Heeds not towards,
How will you continue with,
Fast unto death,
There should be somebody to talk of your pagletgiri,
To announce about, isn’t it?
Your pagletgiri, not Hamletgiri, though alike, talk I, discuss I,
To be or not to be, between the two horns of a dilemma,
A split personality,
Feeling the crisis or torn in between,
Should he or not,
How to take the political stunt,
Doing the padyatra with the like-minded men?
And your men too not the simple men, not merely Gandhians,
Some of them blunt lathimen and rustics
To adorn later on
When their numbers will fall
The stage of the national days,
Looking robust and stubborn.
Gandhiji, if you believe, and let me criticize you,
As you too were a man,
And you too had the limitations of your own,
You married at a small age and had been complacent,
But in this world of today,
Late marriage, maladjustment, joblessness and unemployment
Are tearing the youths apart.
Gandhi, was your honesty, so much talked of
A plan, a hidden agenda or strategy of yours
To come into the light,
To protest and demonstrate with the masses
And to get a few dandas as for to be famous,
To be in light and the cameras falling on you?
Instead of your house, you built an ashrama to live in,
But in this world of today,
People make their cemented houses
And call them cottages, villas,
Which but I know it not
In your context.
Wherever you went, people managed the goats for you
And you milked and took goat milk,
Can it be in general life,
This is only possible for the politicians,
Not for me,
And if they die, wreaths will be many
And if I, people will like to wash their clothes after visiting my house, say you?
Part Two
Gandhiji, you turned into an icon of Indian freedom movement,
The Father of the Nation,
But how would it have been,
Had you been in shirt and pants,
Would you have,
As the dress too makes and unmakes?
The round specs, the lathi, the kurta and dhoti indigo blue-washed white-white,
These too aggravated your stature
In looking reverent and honourable,
Apart from your political stance and stature,
Your philosophy of life.
Gandhi, I see you on the currency notes and try to identify you,
What it was in you,
Did you look down so,
Were you a man or not,
Had you been divine,
What was it the truth?
But in your resistance and resolution, firm belief and activation,
Lay it the philosophy of karmayoga,
Your pagletgiri
And you had been a paglet no doubt,
Getting the works done somehow,
Whatever be the resolve.
You fought for independence, fought for freedom and liberation
And in this regard,
Your pagletgiri helped you,
In attaining that,
Fighting for
With undaunted valour and determination.
Gandhi, had you been not stout and stubborn, firm and resolute,
You would not have,
What it led to,
Was your pagletgiri,
The key to success
And had you been not a paglet, would not have.
Gandhi, had you not been a paglet,
You would not have achieved
And your pagletgiri the corner-stone of your foundation,
To do or not do, to accept or not,
Always thinking of self-prestige.
I do not know it whether you a senior paglet or junior paglet,
Whether you a Hamlet or not
Or his small brother,
But both of you were paglets of some sort.
Gandhi, your Gadhigiri, the world praised,
Your simplicity, your foolishness
As you tried to be truthful,
Tried to keep your lust and greed under control
And tried to win the hearts of others.
I envy you, envy you, gentleman, envy you, envy you, oldman,
Your story and philosophy had been yours,
Only yours, particular and typical indeed,
With a base in pragmatic knowledge and wisdom
And worldliness,
Non-violence, peace, truth.
Moving along some principles, keeping some philosophies,
I mean principled and philosophical,
It attached to your pagletgiri
And you using in politics,
Turned you into a politician.
And it is also true that had you been not a politician, a leader,
The world would not have come to know you,
Your pagletgiri,
Your rigidity and obsession with,
Firm resolution to resolve.
A nationalist, a freedom fighter, a republican, a democrat, a socialist,
You learnt your theories from the West
And applied them with a pagletgiri
To give an Indian outlook,
Gandhi, I know that you were a paglet
And your pagletgiri raised the guts of yours.