Anarchy

I cannot drive, Even my brother can't
He learnt twice, I never did.
Now come on, admit it.
Women can't drive.

From Sanskrit
To Hindi
We've travelled miles
From neutrality
To the living attributes of inanimate

Aeroplanes, the remarkable agents of commutation
Computers, the geniuses
And homes were men.
Trains, books and huts remained female.

Oh how men painted women
As powerful and the future of
The free country they dreamt of
Oh how women painted themselves
As caged in walls of the past

The intellect speaks in silence
About democracy and its ways
But the floating heads give it away
The rule of none, is what they want
Men and women, all alike.

Ah, they're mushrooming.
Symptoms of anarchy.
Treatment, none.