Pharmula One

This is my longest poem thus far. You could call it a ballad; only, don't expect to get enlightened at the end. You're no Buddha and I'm no tree.Try to laugh; if you can't, abuse me and shut the page.

When Laloo became the PM of India
He went on a tour with his son Scindia
They went to Malaysia in the scorching sun
And were taken to see Formula One.

It was a tight and gripping race
Awe was writ large on his face
Then at last, at the final corner,
Leading the pack, was Michael Schumacher.

Laloo said "Arre Wah, Michael winned"
"Yes, he winned", repeated Scind,
Bernie said "Michael as usual,
'Tis always Michael, even without fuel"

"Ijitso?" he asked enquiringly,
"Everytime Michael wins only?"
"That's the power of Schumacher,
Makes him win year after year."

Laloo had a great idea,
Returning to Bihar, he called the media,
"Today I have made great desisan,
From next year we will have Pharmula One"

The announcement delighted Karthikeyan,
Chandok rocketed to 7th heaven,
Practice wheels scorched the track,
Novices hit that extra lap.

But the opposition hit a screeching brake,
"You can't dump the poor for fun's sake"
"Don't worry", said Laloo, "I thought it all out"
"It will not be an unfair bout"

Then one night he called the press
"This will be the racing dress"
He held aloft a milk white dhoti,
And a size number 8 Kolhapuri.

And that was not all for the gaping sribes,
Half the drivers were from local tribes,
But the biggest winner was the local cobbler
Because Laloo just wanted a shoemaker.

After the race, no bottles of bubbly,
Only a cabaret from Pados Ki Babli
And when he was asked about the price of cars,
He said "Huh! This is a race of carts"