Entering from near a giant clown’s vigil
Parents and children gather
In front of a candle-lit birthday cake
Party hats on and singing a choral psalm of celebration
While behind the counter
You see workers in red and white stripes
Working around the clock
Barbecuing patties, heating bread buns and frying French fries
Even pinching a bit of salt
And serving a happy meal with a fizzy red soda
Produced from grape essence

They say there are also pilgrims
Who come each Sabbath eve
To worship larger than life mascots
Near a counter lit with incense candles
Where a few hundred rupee donations
Relinquishes some bread and grape-juice
In the celebration of supper
Where chants are imparted by the gathering
In song and praise
For the offering of a brief repast

And if you look close enough
Through the magnifying glass of objectivity
You will find a theocratic church
With open doors and welcoming arms
Serving a quarter pounder as a banquet
Providing a pinch of happiness
To millions of her faithful

And a plutocratic multinational
With a director at the helm
Serving fast food and alcohol
To nourish the inner hunger and thirst
Of her loyal customers
For a mere episode of a few hours

In these paradoxical fogs
Of monotheism and capitalism
There are the people
Who flock for a simple meal
Unknowing that the true source of happiness
Is found in the collective strength
Of their congregation
And not in the tongue-lunge or tongue-wrap
Of a tender bite of bread.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s