This e-mail was forwarded to me...
Buddho Antony mounts the steps of bloodied capital, showing 'red eyes' not from threats, but from genuine weeping. He begins:
'Friends, NRIs, countrymen. Don't lend me your investments.
I come to bury Nano, not to praise it.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their machinery;
So let it be with the Tatas. The noble Mamata
Hath told you that i, Buddho was too ambitious:
If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
And grievously hath i and Bengal answer'd it.
Here, under leave of Mamata, Governor Gandhi, and the rest...
Come i to speak at Nano's funeral.
Roton was my friend, faithful and just to our state,
But Mamata says we were too ambitious;
And Mamata is an honourable woe-man.
I had brought many venture capitalists back to Kolkata,
Whose investments did the coffers fill...
I speak not to reverse what Mamata screwed,
But here i am to speak what i do know.
You all did love this Tata once, not without cause:
What cause withholds you then, to mourn for Nano?
O development, thou art fled to brutish protestors,
And the state has lost its jobs and capital. Bear with me;
My heart is in the debris there with Nano,
And i must pause till it come back to me...
But yesterday the Nano might
Have rolled out before Durga Pujo. Now lies it abandoned.
O cadres, if i were disposed to stir
Your hearts and minds to rational rage,
I should do Trinamool wrong, and my own CPM diehards wrong,
Who, you all know, are honourable woe-men and men:
If you had hopes, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this MOU. I remember The first time ever Salem Group signed it.
Through this the well-beloved Mamata stabb'd;
And as she pluck'd our Tata Motors away,
Mark how the blood of Bengal follow'd it,
As rushing out of doors, to be resolved
If Mamata so unkindly knock'd, or no;
For Mamata, as you know, is the people's angel:
This was the unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Tata saw her stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,
Quite angered him. Then burst forth his mighty Plan B, and, in his mantle gathering up his machinery,
Great Roton withdrew.
O, what a fall was there, my West Bengal.
Then I, and you, and Harsh Neotia's malls fell down,
Whilst bloody backwardness swept over us again.'