कौन होते है आप
घूर कर उसको देखने वाले
कपड़ों पर उसके भौंकने वाले
सोच को थोड़ी खुद की सुधारो
आंखो की हैवानियत ,बाहर निकालो
निकलेगी खुद की भी बेटी एक दिन
इन्हीं बेशरम सड़कों पर
तब सवाल होगा तेरा खुद से
क्या सलामत लौटेगी वो घर पे ?
जा कर मंदिर में आप जो
ढोंग हजारों रचते हो
लक्ष्मी दुर्गा का नाम बोल कर माथा अपना रगड़ते हो
देवी समझ कर ही बंद कर दो तुम
ये हवस अश्लीलता का व्यापार
वरना विनाश को तेरे धर लेगी वो मां काली का अवतार
एक सुंदर तस्वीर है वो ,अस्तित्व लेने दो उसे
एक ख्वाब है वो ,पूरा होने दो उसे
एक खुशी है वो ,खुल कर हसने दो उसे
एक सितारा है वो ,चमकने दो उसे
खुदा की खूबसूरती है वो,
सिर्फ लड़की नहीं किसी की बहन
किसी की बेटी है वो
जीने दो उसे ।।

#साकार

what my ancestors gave me

(the curves of my body
the curls in my hair
the swell of my *******
the wetness between my legs)

was not meant to be colonized.

With color painted on my skin ,
I walk amidst these clouds ,
Too high , too scared to fall ,
To fall onto more melanin.
The more the melanin the more alien I become , they say.
I try to soak these clouds into me ,
Like I absorbed the Indian in my folks .
Like I carry a bunch of them beneath this skin.
Like my taste buds will always crave for more spice.

Like it is all I know.
Like I am always the one suffering with the wrong accent.
Like an accent could be right or wrong.
As if , proper has a sound of its own.
I come from the land of red soil
Soil being red from the blood .
I come from the air ,
Filled with all the carbon and heat
I come from the waters of Indian ocean .
But , mainly I come from my country , my India

I fight injustice in the West and help people who are in danger.
When my brother was murdered, I became the Lone Ranger.
I bring outlaws to justice wherever I go.
I couldn't do it without the help of my Indian sidekick Tonto.

People constantly think that I'm an outlaw because I wear this mask.
They want to take it off but they learn that removing it isn't an easy task.
Tonto and I always beat the bad guys by using our wits and our fists.
When we're done, the outlaws have handcuffs slapped on their wrists.

I ride Silver who is my trusty steed.
We always help those who are in need.
I only use silver bullets and so far Tonto and I haven't failed.
We will always protect the innocent and send outlaws to jail.

The bitter neem reminds of those days -  
the day your heart broke
the day you have to leave your family
the day your beloved pet passed away
the day you felt your life purposeless
all those days filled with sadness

The sweet jaggery reminds of those days -
the day of your first kiss
the day you achieved a dream
the day your kid first walked
the day you received the first paycheck
all those days filled with happiness

The spicy chilies reminds of those days -
the day you were criticized
the day you couldn’t find a solution
the day you waited long in queue
the day you were rejected after many attempts
all those days filled with anger

The sour tamarind reminds of those days –
the day you are completely lost
the day your dearest friend betrayed
the day you failed in everything
the day the problems seemed unsolvable
all those days filled with disgust

The pinch of salt reminds of those days –
the day you are left alone
the day you failed an exam
the day you have to speak facing the crowd
the day you felt crisis in life
all those days filled with fear

The tangy mango reminds of those days -
the day when a stranger  helped you
the day you received an thank you note
the day you met a very old friend
the day when a wish suddenly becomes the reality
all those days filled with surprise

Combine all -
the experiences of life in a single dish

They call us Madrasis
Incarcerated Buddhas
Not Cholas nor the Devadasis
But agglomerated Cheras.
Who knew the Pandyas, anyway?

They call us Archetypes
On Iridescent Thalis
Of Sambars and rice cakes in thin stripes
Slurping on leafy banana like malis.
Who knew the God’s Own Country anyway?

They call us Annas
Sandalwood Veerappans
Lemon for Evil at four annas
Skirting Lungi blooms and Hairy Chappans*
Where is Madras anyway!

where is my indian
is it in the way i don't use my palms as a medium to transport rice into the back of my mouth
is it in the way my face turns gloomy at the sight of spice and curry
is it in my skin color that isn't as brown as you need it to be
is it in my eyebrows which aren't as bushy as per your requirements

is it in the way my tongue twists awkwardly as i say happy diwali
is it in the way amma is the most fluent piece of tamil i speak
is it in the way i didn't know how to recite the words at my grandpas funeral
is it in the way i cannot, for the life of me, name you another tamil movie besides chandramukhi?

or

is it in the religious classes i took up until age 12
is it in the ramayana epic that i learnt, age 8
is it in the sanskrit bhajans i was made to sing, not knowing what they meant, age 10
is it in knowing that ganesh is the remover of obstacles,
brahma, vishnu, shiva - the creator, the preserver, the destroyer

is it in the eyeliner drawing a bindi in between my eyes when i
head to the temple, to present myself as indian

where is my indian
is it on a checklist, is there a passing mark?
where is my indian
please tell me,
because i am tired of feeling like a foreigner in my own skin

We have a family tomb. Elder brother bought it for dad. I renovated it when mom slept for the last time. It is pleasant to go there and stay for a while.

I have never seen dad and mom in bed together. Now, it’s nice to watch them do so. A tranquil feeling.

If I do not die in a distant land I too will sleep in this tomb. Gives me a nice kick to think so. Also a sick feeling that I cannot be there to watch myself.

I picked up a candle and lit it on my tomb. Gathered some flowers from the ground and strew them on it. Stuck incense sticks all around, Knelt down before the dead me.

Then, The familiar ones in the cemetery rose up To ask me when I had come over. Someone from among us got up and left without answering.

Behold, a girl runs along the alley in front of the cemetery.