The beauty of difference,
Our accidental difference?
In my conflict of narratives –
I find my voice stolen,
Scattered, dispersed, dissipated,
The absurd racism – is that it?
Or is it the absurd nationalism?
Am i less human or less Indian?
When you tell us ‘go back home’
Where do you think home is?
When we in turn lynch you,
In our towns –
Do you pay for the others’ crimes?
The killing, the oppression.
But what is stamped on our bodies?
Our features alone?
Our ‘chinky’ features?
But you knew, in your violence
the lack of Indianess, of hinduness.
It mocks you and strains your identity.
But you know,
this country is not my choosing,
this body is not my choosing,
My mother tongue is not my choosing
the region i come from –
it is not my choosing.
you didn’t choose yours either.