La Marseillaise

It was the middle of the night

When the lights were out

And the world was sleeping

When I got up

Stood firm and straight

With arm turned in salute, singing

Arise, children of the Fatherland

The day of glory has arrived!

Against us tyranny’s

Bloody banner is raised.

Just when the song was reaching crescendo

A woman sleeping on my bed

Raised her head in horror

And threw a pillow on my face

Ki  Korcho Tumi?

Paagol  hoye  gaycho  ki?

I am singing the French Anthem

La Marseillaise

But why this anthem, did Robi Thakur write this?

You silly Bongo Santaan, I said

You think all anthems of the word

Were written by Rabindranath

I have learnt the song by heart

For have now made up my mind

And heart to migrate to France.

My tricolor just changed its shades

From Saffron, Green and White

To Blue, Red and White.

Give me one good reason

For you to take this call.

One, I will give you Three

Each one more powerful than the prior

Hearing which you too shall join me

On board the flight to La France.

Firstly tell me what my medical report says

All organs are fit and fine

Just like a lad of eighteen

But for one thing…my little heart

The cholesterol levels are high

How much more can I exercise?

How much more can I control my eating?

Now only one solution remains

And that is to drink wine

Drink wine and be merry

Cleaning my arteries and veins

Where else do you find the best wine,

But in France alone

A hundred miles north of Paris

Lies the wine region of Champagne

Producing the best sparkling white wine

That’ll cure me of my ailment

And they say in France

You open the taps, wine flows.

Her eyes sparkled but her vicious tongue lashed

Gotchha you fool, for wine you want to leave

And what about daab chingri, shorshey eilish

Arsalan Biriyani and Hyderabadi Halim

And choley bhaturey, chaat and gol guppa

Will you get them in France…No Never.

She had a point there

No bread pakora, alu parantha and the rest.

My first argument was put to gastronomic rest.

Second reason for going to France

Will bowl you over My Love

Frenchmen are the sexiest

Frenchmen make more love than any other

And of course the French women

Are so beautiful that you fall in love

With every lass you meet

On plane, beach and every street.

What more do you want in life?

The woman was desperately looking

For a rolling pin or slipper but got none

But threw a volley at me

Don’t get ideas by seeing Vicky Donor

All that crap about Bengali men and their powers

Release …Release..dialogues nesting in your mind

Oh! give me a break please

Are good for movies alone

With a balding head, fading vision and falling teeth

If you think French women are so desperate

To fall for men like you

Remember Carla Bruni loved a President

And you no Sarkozy by a mile

Understand you fifty something baldy aloor dum!

Third reason is the best

And there is no way you can find fault, My Dear

Did you know French laws for work?

Just thirty five hours a week! Yes 35 Only.

Just seven hours a day for just five days

 And here

We work ten to twelve hours everyday

Almost six days a week

Add to it three hours of travel a day

And even after it the phone never stops ringing

The laptop knobs keep tapping

Calls at one in the morning

Mails at midnight…it just goes on and on.

In France you disconnect your phones and laptops

After office hours.

Even if Boss calls

You say ‘ello ‘ello, wrong number Monsieur.

We live a dog’s life here and I say no to it today

I too want my life back

I too want to live again

I too want to give time to

My family, my hobbies and my friends

So Darling, let me go and come with me

To the land of Moulin Rouge, Eiffel and Louvre

Viva La France!!

Passeport Stamped.

SS