You’re a Super King
In a world of chest thumping 
show ponies
And bureaucratic power yielding 
phoneys
There’s Dhoni
They’ve bayed for his blood
Those mean little men
With their bitterness
And Twitter-ness 
Lesser men with their caustic views
mere mortals seeking to curtail
They’ve tried to shuffle him
Ruffle him
Muzzle him
Trouble him
Kerkuffle him
But Dhoni
By comparison yogic
Follows his own logic
MS Dhoni
Almost lonely
He’s shut out the white noise 
With much poise
Now he’s the mentor
That they sent for
Heaven sent
The calm
The balm
The charm
Decisions made, 
with much ‘aaram’
What’s going on in that head
And when he bids adieu
Have we given the man his due
Dhoni?
The man in yellow
What a fellow

Who drove me that day?
Who drove me that day
I can’t say
Who was at the wheel that day
I can’t say
Couldn’t see his face
Even when he fled
As the victims bled,
Left for dead
I can’t say
I begged him to brake
But the driver 
The killer at the wheel
Didn’t slow down
Mowed them down
Slammed them from the rear
I have blood on my hands
Am I an accomplice, an accessory?
A spectator that’s mute?
If they summon me
If I could speak
I’d track the day
What I heard
Did he lose control?
Was it an act of vengeance?
An act of violence?

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Illustrations/Uday Mohite

An act of venom?
An act of vilification?
But there’s blood on my fender
Me, a weapon of mass destruction
To men of harvestation
We’ve become a nation
Of devastation
Protest has no place
Debate is extinct
The dharna
The strike
The placard
The resistance
The cry for help
Will not be tolerated
Berated
Condemned
Interrogated
Whoever drove me that day
Will he ever pay?

Rahul daCunha is an adman, theatre director/playwright, photographer and traveller. Reach him at rahul.dacunha@mid-day.com