Poems on News Anchors - IV

Barkha Dutt

Ye destitute widow, acid attack victim / Forgotten spy, despairing cripple / Who was once trapped in rubble / And ye burnt in a stockmarket bubble / This comforting hand I lay on your shoulder / Timed to the pan of the camera’s girdle / Give me your grief just for a moment / Let us spread it before We The People

Barkha Dutt

Ye destitute widow, acid attack victim / Forgotten spy, despairing cripple / Who was once trapped in rubble / And ye burnt in a stockmarket bubble / This comforting hand I lay on your shoulder / Timed to the pan of the camera’s girdle / Give me your grief just for a moment / Let us spread it before We The People

Some would say why I would say / Some would say for what I say / But know me You The People / Not by my late tribulations / But by my fine emulations / A career of honed expressions / My hysterics have drowned howitzers / My voice can be louder than bombs / I have a naughty glint to start / The motors of the Bollywood mouth / A furrowed brow for the minister / For every novelist two paras by heart

I am the tallest poppy / Mistress of every beat / Battler of troll and twit / Editor, intellectual, analyst / Anchor, correspondent, critic / And and and and and / Some would say that’s a lot of me / But all ye upstarts / Why don’t you just let me be