Accidental prime minister

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

Who, calls him, accidental prime minister,
I call him India's pride,
A Man who steered our economy,
In turbulent times.

An economist, who brought us out of mayhem,
Can India call him an accident,
If it is, so then it, was right,
For he ushered, in future, that's bright.

India has had blunderous ministers,
Who turn money to paper in one go,
You can call them disastrous,
I know, you know, we know.

Why throw dirt on spotless,
Why defame the clean,
Dirt has the capability to stick,
It is always seen.

R. A. Jacob

I love my country
All politics failed in front of Him
All politics failed in front of Him
All my poems
His care is sufficient for me

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