White Budget Poem by Jinnuraine Jaigirdar

The smuggled money will be flying back home, in waves,
Knowing this, people have stopped moving the wheel, in paves,
Sitting in hope, shaking the vessels in hands,
To catch when crores of rupees will fly across the sky bands;
In time the wings have to open the traps
To catch the mountain of money, to be the king of the maps.

Think about it, they are telling,
The budget has not been drawn in straight line, this time,
The black money will be white, this path is crooked & dime!
Brother! How many of you are walking in the straight prime, Taking the vessel on their heads to pick up the dime;
The king's treasury is covered with black hymn,
It seems each homes in this town covered with black money without crime,
All these things, do we have the stigma or the knot of glory sublime?
Thoughtfully historians are in continuous seizuring rhyme.