You must be kidding if you think
I could run away with hardly any idea about
Making a living outside my familiar turf;
For I can’t annoy my bosses,
Or displease my peers and cadre;
It beats me why the public clamor,
Or for that matter, I myself preach on the stage,
About virtues of good public life;
For, in reality, a good life is
Showing to the public only your good side;
And if at all something comes to light by accident
And blew itself out of proportions,
Then it must have been a scandalous matter,
Exactly the one the voting guys
Used to see, practice or succumb to
In broad daylight on every other day
Or deal under shade in most of the nights,
And the thing that they, you and I knew,
Which none are ready to know, existed publicly,
That it was made public for the public to know publicly
And also that most of public are equally scandalous
That too in private in a Republic, that too one like us,
And peculiarly, see, I know no other fairer job,
Other than my public life and that I shall one day
Quit or die publicly and I don’t care a hoot whether
Be it hanging in public or assassinated publicly
And in some meetings it give me nightmares,
That I was dying a peaceful death, quietly in private.