They say you are born
Naked, with no identity
No name
And no face
Like any other
You are born, crying
A brand new star
Another unknown amalgamation of all that gives life
A fresh start
But not to everyone
For some of us
Are born closer to the earth
A genetic result of a thousand generations
Manifesting its way into marks on my being
Unseen
Unknown
Unwanted
We have a name for us
By Birth
Wherein we are doomed to the fires of hell
If hell were on Earth
And it is here for us
A simple cage with no bars
The burden of a thousand years
And markings made by routine
Justified by the Great Souls
Deeming it but mere control
And even if I change
Resist and break
They say I was born this way
That my mother's womb has left indelible marks I can never erase
A curse that made me wonder
Should I have been born at all?
To feel as deserving as literal baloney
Never to be touched
Never to be felt
Never to be heard
Never to be seen
Dehumanized to an extent where I cannot even believe any more that the sky is blue
Or that there exists the air around me which I need to breathe, to live
I'm no more than a pollutant
Upon the back of whom this world works
But who never sees the light above
Who was supposed to be filtered away into oblivion
Who was always supposed to be the nonentity
The stubborn stain that will not go away
I can never erase
My name
My identity
Even if I pretend
Or literally rip the skin off my face and wear another
If I achieve anything in this world
I shall be put up on a wall to showcase
The marks my mother's womb left
The marks that I can never erase
For some of us were born to hug the earth
Make it our home and heart
The backbone of this whole wide world
The wombs that faced physical retribution and degradation
Of the cruelest kind possible
To be told you can never be better
Than irrelevant specks of dust
Swept beneath an apologetic herd
For some of us are born closer to the earth
I bear my marks with shame no more
I shall take what was mine
I shall bow no more
In India, society is divided into castes. Each caste historically had a particular profession and they were in a hierarchy wherein the cleaner, sweepers, tanners were at the very bottom and the priests, warriors, businessmen were considered at the top. You were born into the system. Your changing professions didn't matter. It still doesn't. Casteism rages in my country. There is a lack of English mainstream literature by Dalits in India.