News letter in a form of poem recieved from a sender Namit Verma (namit.khajuraho@gmail.com)
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Smriti ji gave the game away and also her identity as she bespoke:
“Fair is foul, and foul is fair”;
So let’s complete the chant that was lost in the din,
“Fair is foul, and foul is fair;
Hover through the fog and filthy air.”
As Modi ji learns from Macbeth,
“So foul and fair a day I have not seen,”
Yet he knows not how this time hath come to pass, for
“Peace! the charms wound up.”
“The wierd sisters, hand in hand
“Posters of the sea and land,
“Thus do go about about:
“Thrice to thine and thrice to mine,
“And thrice again to make up nine.”
(with gratitude to good old precient Shakespeare,
and apologies to the noble Modi, Smriti, et al
Smriti:
“Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest tost.”
Modi:
“My God! my God! look not so fierce on me!
“Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile!”
HRD Chorus
“Ugly Hell, gape not! come not Lucifer!
“I’ll burn my books! — Ah Mephistophilis!”)