Oh! the questions I have

Oh Condi, My Condi,
Thou art beautiful – why art thou not mine,
Even if thou art not mine, that doesn’t mean I can’t have an eyeful.
Like India’s presidential palaces, thou stand tall, and graceful.
Like India’s multitude, thou art colorful and smart.

Oh Condi, My Condi,
Where did thou get that dress?
Did thou have it when we leave our great country?
Or did thou ask Singh to have one sewn for thou.
Why doesn’t the lady next to me wear anything like that – ever?

Oh Condi, My Condi,
The questions I have, can anyone answer?
Oh Condi, My Condi,
Why art thou not mine?