“My birth is my fatal accident”
Rohith, why didn’t you mention caste
in your parting letter? You gracious bastard.
Did you want to be a Gandhi in your death,
another non-violent messiah?
Did your parents sell their little piece of land
and eat one meal a day to send you to school?
You loved the stars. A child who loves the
stars is bound to be lonely. A child who loves
the stars would never be appreciated.
You are gone.
It’s Monday morning. People are
mourning the deaths of those American scholars
who founded Indian political discourse. They don’t
remember you who make politics.
India is investing in Start-Ups, didn’t you
know? And you End-Up, you fool.
Your ilk will never learn. Loser.
Mate, hope you reached the stars. Fill
your belly with the star dust to
keep the fire burning.