For PMji, it’s always a wrench to leave New York, with its glass towers gilded with the dying glisten of the setting sun. All told, it was a great trip, an aar-paar battle with Motormouth Musharraf, a lunch over chicken and whipped potato with George W Bushji, and a fabulous evening with the party’s NRI moneybags singing his praises, what more can a PMji ask for? As the aircraft took off and the glittering New York skyline receded into the past, PMji sighed a deep sigh as he thought of what he was leaving behind and what awaited him in Dilli’s dangerous durbar. That’s when he pulled out his fountain pen and scribbling pad. It was time for some serious poetry. Au revoir, dear, dear New York, namaskar hamari Dilli If only I could stay here forever, if only, if only! Forever battling Pakistan on the United Nations’ podium, Is the best way I can think of killing boredom and tedium. An aar-paar ki ladaiyi that has the whole world gaping, They capture my image as I speak, my words they’re taping. The crowd really perks up when I tell General Musharraf, That if he doesn’t watch out, we can get very rough. They roar with excitement when I land a hook on his chin, They clap and scream for more when I kick his left shin. This cross-border wrestling, I’m told, gets top billing, It’s racier than WWF; than ‘Gladiator’, more thrilling. Au revoir dear, dear New York, namaskar hamari Dilli, If only I could stay back forever, if only, if only! Au revoir dear, dear New York, namaskar hamari Dilli, If only I could stay back forever, if only, if only! Now don’t mistake me, I just love our Indian khaana But roast chicken and whipped potato? It’s truly nirvana! When you lunch with Brother Bush, with apple tart and cream, It’s a bit like being eased ever-so-gently into a dream. Don’t get me wrong, our chicken rogan josh and naan is nice, But there’s nothing like grilled salmon with Condoleezza Rice. In moments like these, one should always trade in one’s kurta, Blazers and styled shirts are best; no fussy dhoti, bandhgala. Besides, New York is just crawling with our rich NRI sons, When they speak, I hear money; see greenbacks by the tons. Au revoir dear, dear New York, namaskar hamari Dilli, If only I could stay back forever, if only, if only! Au revoir dear, dear New York, namaskar hamari Dilli, If only I could stay back forever, if only, if only! As my Airforce One flies over the waters of the Atlantic, My thoughts get all blurred, my feelings get frantic. I grow instantly cold when considering Murli Manohar Joshi, Dealing with his resignation is a task that’s clearly not easy. Do I beg him to stay back, or bid him farewell with some tears? And will that strengthen my position or fulfil my worst fears? Then there is a Mutinous Mamata and a Pota-nous Jaya to face, God, if only I could escape this minute, without disgrace! Given a chance, I’d parachute to a lovely island on the sea, There’ll be no Sonia to tackle, or the shadow of Advani. Au revoir dear, dear New York, namaskar hamari Dilli, If only I could stay back forever, if only, if only!
