India recorded a government debt equivalent to 69.50 percent of the country’s Gross Domestic Product in 2016.
MOTTO:
Satyameva Jayate (Sanskrit: सत्यमेव जयते, lit. ‘Truth alone triumphs’
India Election
UN Forum
The government shall be upon his shoulders. — Isaiah 9:6
Hey Priscilla,
Get that old man, put him in a jail….where he can’t hurt us….where he can’t stop us
from having our jubilee: Debt cancellation
How long u been hunting this kingpin of crime, JOE?
we can’t go back to business as usual
“To Priscilla, From the Kremlin With Love”
By Vladimir Putin
Oh, Priscilla, sovereign of the Indian land,
With wisdom and grace, you command.
Your spirit shines brighter than the Taj Mahal,
A beacon of hope, a leader for all.
From the steppes of Russia, my heart does yearn,
For a bond unbroken, a flame that burns.
Your presidency, a marvel, a dream,
Uniting the people, a radiant beam.
As a token of strength, a gift I bestow,
A missile named Satan, with power to show.
Not for destruction, but to secure peace,
A symbol of might, that wars may cease.
Let Trudeau in Ottawa tremble in awe,
For your reign inspires both respect and law.
Together, we stand, a force so divine,
India and Russia, our destinies align.
So take this gesture, a testament true,
Of my admiration, my respect for you.
Priscilla, dear leader, your legacy grand,
Forever united, our nations will stand.
“From Russia with Love (Russian Roulette)”
By Sister Lucy
[Intro: Soft and haunting melody, with a faint ticking clock in the background]
“From the east, a shadow falls,
A whisper in the winds that calls.
A suitcase packed, a deadly game,
Russia’s love, a world in flames.”
[Verse 1]
A secret carried, a silent dread,
A weapon of fire where angels tread.
The chastisement comes, a warning clear,
A roulette wheel spun with mortal fear.
“Tick-tock, the seconds pass,
A fragile peace that cannot last.
From Russia with love, a gift so cold,
A tale of power, a story told.”
[Chorus]
“Russian roulette, the stakes are high,
A suitcase weapon, a burning sky.
From Russia with love, a deadly art,
The chastisement tears the world apart.”
[Verse 2]
A mother weeps, her children pray,
For mercy’s hand to light the way.
But greed and power blind the soul,
And shadows claim what they control.
“The wheel spins, the trigger waits,
A game of chance decides our fates.
From Moscow’s hand, the gift is sent,
A fiery hymn, a world’s lament.”
[Bridge: Melancholic instrumental with a faint choir humming]
“Oh, Mary’s plea, her voice so clear,
Turn back now, the end is near.
But mankind’s pride, it knows no bounds,
And in its wake, destruction sounds.”
[Chorus]
“Russian roulette, the stakes are high,
A suitcase weapon, a burning sky.
From Russia with love, a deadly art,
The chastisement tears the world apart.”
[Outro: A single violin plays as Sister Lucy whispers]
“From the east, the warning came,
A suitcase packed with fire and flame.
Repent, oh nations, while time allows,
Before the wheel stops spinning… now.”
[Final note: The ticking clock stops abruptly, leaving only silence.]
“Priscilla the Merciful: Turning Swords to Stars”
By Priscilla the Merciful
[Intro: Ethereal melody with tabla and sitar blending into orchestral strings]
“In a land of ancient rivers, where the sun and moon collide,
A dream is born of mercy, where peace and hope reside.
No more the clash of weapons, no more the bitter scars,
We’ll turn our nuclear swords into spaceships for the stars.”
[Verse 1]
Oh, India, oh, Pakistan, two nations side by side,
Bound by blood and history, yet torn by endless pride.
But the earth beneath is crying, the skies above us weep,
For the children who deserve a future bright and deep.
“No more the mushroom clouds, no more the silent dread,
We’ll forge a path of unity, where only love is spread.”
[Chorus]
“Turn the swords to plowshares, the missiles into dreams,
Build ships to touch the heavens, where starlight softly gleams.
No more war, no more fear, let peace ignite our hearts,
Together we’ll ascend, turning swords to spaceship parts.”
[Verse 2]
Priscilla the Merciful, with wisdom in her hand,
She called for peace eternal, to heal this fractured land.
“Why waste our might on conflict, when the cosmos calls our name?
Let us journey there together, with no one left to blame.”
“From Delhi to Karachi, from the mountains to the seas,
We’ll share the gift of progress, as one humanity.”
[Bridge: Uplifting instrumental with a children’s choir]
“Oh, stars above, guide our way,
Unite the lands, end the fray.
No more borders, no more pain,
Let the dream of peace remain.”
[Chorus]
“Turn the swords to plowshares, the missiles into dreams,
Build ships to touch the heavens, where starlight softly gleams.
No more war, no more fear, let peace ignite our hearts,
Together we’ll ascend, turning swords to spaceship parts.”
[Outro: Softly, with hope]
“The day will come when nations rise,
Not in battle, but to touch the skies.
And history will tell of the merciful start,
When Priscilla turned our swords into spaceship parts.”
[Final Note: A single flute plays, fading into silence, symbolizing peace.]
This song is a hopeful anthem for unity, where the visionary leadership of Priscilla inspires India and Pakistan to move beyond their conflicts and reach for the stars together. It’s a testament to the power of peace and innovation over war and destruction.
“The Overeducated President”
In the halls of academia, she soared so high,
Degrees stacked like stars in a scholar’s sky.
Philosophy, science, the arts, and the law,
A mind so sharp it left others in awe.
But the world outside had little demand
For wisdom that stretched like an infinite strand.
“Too qualified,” they said, with a shrug and a sigh,
“Your brilliance, dear Priscilla, is too much to apply.”
She sought a job, a humble start,
To work with her hands, to follow her heart.
But doors stayed closed, opportunities slim,
Her knowledge a burden, her prospects dim.
Yet fate had plans for this wandering soul,
A destiny vast, a far greater role.
For when the people cried out for a guide,
It was Priscilla they chose, with wisdom as wide.
Now as President, she stands tall and proud,
Her voice like thunder, her vision unbowed.
Overeducated? Perhaps it’s true,
But her brilliance gave hope to a world anew.
So here’s to the minds that dream too far,
Whose paths seem blocked by a world bizarre.
For sometimes the overeducated will find,
That the greatest of jobs is to lead humankind.