The Bharatiya Janata Party's Lok Sabha candidate from Pilibhit constituency and former Union Minister Maneka Gandhi's son, Varun Gandhi was involved in a 'communal hate speech' during the Indian Elctions of Two Thousand and Nine. The National Security Act was invoked against Mr. Gandhi for spreading communal hate by the Uttar Pradesh Govt, lead by Bahujan Samajwadi Party leader Mayawati. The Act was later revoked by the Election Commission on the grounds that it was too harsh a punishment. Varun Gandhi however contested for the polls and eventually won a Lok Sabha seat from Pilibhit.

I have retold the event of the 'hate speech' and its after effects through poetry. Please comment and tell me if you like it. And I'm willing to take any constructive criticism. However, I feel Indians, and people who are socially aware would be better judges of the poem because, they would be aware of the whole Varun Gandhi hate speech issue that caused a lot of drama just before India went to vote. Although anyone is free to comment on the quality of the poetry. Thank you.

THE ORANGE MAN

The orange man takes the stage
brash and reckless, young in age.
A red line on his head
marking more than just the colour
marking his territory, marking his bed.
His weapon is word.
More harmful than quill or sword.
The orange amplifier of thought
the humble microphone brought.
He clears his throat for the rant to follow.
Shouldn't men think twice before having a say?
The orange man probably thought
sixteen times that sunny day.
The little orange man, couldn't care less
for the clan, nor his own.
Was this part of the plan?

Filth took the form of speech,
the orange man began to preach.
The filth is hate. Hate is poison.
Propagator of hate,
your enemies will be delighted.
Not the ones you spoke against,
it is too late now, short-sighted.
Shielded you are by shiny orange lotus petals,
the crescent is ired, now you can do little.
The increasing lunar which you offended
will never assist in your eclipse.

The five fingers can't contain their grin,
the lotus was never this shade of pink.
The little orange man is trampled soon
by a trumpeting grey elephantine force
Oh god, forgive me, where are the doors?
He gets out alive, fumbling between denial and apology.
My friend, you really rank well in sociology.
The orange man with the marking red
should not be draped in that strain orange.
Colour can't describe the hate the unholy cow spread
Well, didn't it backfire, Mr.Yellow and Red?

A big letdown the orange man was,
to the world so colourful.
Down, some hailed him brave.
But the lotus stem wished to be plucked
from petals he smudged black.
Orange man, your true colour is hate,
there are no oranges in your crate.

Two minutes cost you two hundred million.
Two minutes marked your downfall.
Two minutes, those hateful two minutes
is also the reason why
I, the intelligent class won't be seen
planting orange seeds for your orchard.

                                                       - New Age Poet