All by fraud
As to collect money from the market
And to vanish finally.
The director saheb with the beauty queen memsaheb,
A coloured man and a drinker,
A party-man and a hotelier,
A club-man and a swindler.
Whatever call you, he is less than,
A thief, a dacoit, a looter
Or better it is to call him a conman
Collecting money and deceiving the easily believing public.
The director saheb in the metropolitan capital headquarters
And his fraudster manangers here in the field
Sitting in their branch offices
With the staff
Doing a business,
But to run away.
The bundles of monetary denominations collected,
Supplied to and banked elsewhere,
Many siding them
To run away.
A T.V. news channel and a newspaper purchased
As to show to customers
And the newspapers flashing it over
The ribbon-cutting ceremonies in different places
Just to run away finally.
And after the run, the director will be in jail
Or in foreign,
The beloved deputy director too along with him
For no fault of hers, just for a partake of
And the motorcycles given to footpath agents
At the police station
And the agents repenting or gone missing
And what more to say about those befooled?