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O enfant terrible,What a spanner you have thrownInto the habibual settled waysOf proprietors who canBe heard to groan at the insoucianceWith which you relentlessly amaze.O picaroon of politics, there seemsNo end to the tricks you inventTo get under the skin of the establishment.Yet, with a billion lives at stake, canYou blame those who wonder whetherOne swallow may that summer makeThat fills the plain with uplifting heather.Is it a danger that you may beToo full of yourself, unthinking bothOf the contraries riding your footboard,And of those outside who applaudBut ask some honest questionsOf your disdainful sufficiency?Know that the dawn in which it is oftenGood to be alive and to be youngHas frequently been squanderedIn history by upright souls whoPursued too abstract a purity.Thus, O “non-ideological” brigade,Let not perfect purity become the ideologyThat puts paid to your admirable crusade.
Badri Raina