Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Naipaul, V.S.

By Badri Raina

Naipaul, he of woman  born—
A circumstance  most  uncouth--
Had he a choice he would have come
From a white man’s mealy  mouth.

Least he could  he does, he does,
Do dirt on  “feminine tosh”;
Shama Biswas, what  child you bore,
Ghosh, ghosh, and ghosh!

Hardy never a Nobel got,
Nor  Fyodor Dostoevsky;
They  did not dash  this “feminine tosh”
With   stupid  sufficiency.

How lucky he that Austen be
Not among us now, alas;
What mince she might have made of him
In a novel of purest class.

 January 1, 2012

1 comment:

M.L. Raina said...

in his overcrowded barracoon
there'so place for believers
all the writers,but for him,
are meat for his cleavers

he loves to hate the muslims
and finds strength galore
among the saffron hoodlums
whom he dies to adore

we are wounded relics of the past
now home to million mutinies
he wears blinkered lenses
when conducting his scrutinies.

the white man lauds his 'elegant style'
and cherishes his hate-filled books
The Nobel calls him laureate
to spite us savage 'kooks'.

But Theroux gave him dressing-down
and brought him down to earth.
punched holes in his snooty nose
while we smirked in mirth..