It is interesting this cacophony of words
Where each onto himself an oracle’s mantle takes
Slashing left, right and centre
With the precision of a ninja sword
A conviction, either forced or found
In a goal, either Rangzen or nowhere land

Invisible fingers dancing away on keyboards
Their grip as yet to the contours of a trigger unknown
Hearts raging with a freelancing surge of passion
Churning soups of rhetoric, sprinkled with icy spice

But it is interesting in this cacophony of words
Where names are called, histories re-visited
Dogmas criticized and radicalism at half-prices sold
Chests-thumping in gorilla ecstasy
Where free speech banana in the dozens devoured

And so the breast-beating continues
Some Laloo Prasad Yadav in the making
Others Hitler, his moustach shorn by half
Then there be Phooolan Dvi, if not a Napoleon
Joan of Arc a few, only her armour lipstick-stained

In between them the Mandela or is it Guevera
The former a cautious, boxer-turned-pacifist
The latter a rebellious modern-day Quixote
Upright Nehru, or is it the chuckling Gandhi
Roosevelt, Geronimo, or cigar-chewing Churchill
Gun-planting Bhagat Singh or bare-chested Azaad
Blued-eyed Lion of the Desert
Or Mao with his tobacco-stained teeth

Either all or one of them, better still none
My fuming friends in “Tommy Hilfiger” camouflage
Cigarette for a gun, chewing gum for bombs
Icons-in-the-making all of them
The gorillas soon to be guerillas