I've read and re-read this, and feel there is so much more in it then what I can figure out. This stanza especially stood out for me:

Caste, color and creed
on coffee table,
for a birthday party of democracy.
A drone fell on the crowd.

^^I got an impression of a gathering where color of the skin does not matter nor caste just the atmosphere of good company but within that disharmony was born.

Interesting write.