I'm sorry I'm not the good Indian girl I was bred to be I'm sorry I don't make round rotis I'm sorry that the tongue I use to speak punjabi is broken and hides in my mouth unused until desperately needed I'm sorry that I don't cook and clean efficiently enough to be wifey material Sorry that I love who I love and don't hate who I was told to Sorry that I can't follow gods blindly and not try to sneak back stage to see their shining gold adornments and blue body paints and multiple arms in full and bare glory and scandal
I'm sorry that I'm actually not sorry for any of this I'm sorry that these are false and empty apologies
I am unapologetically whole A human not just a race A female not a trust fund or business transaction
I filter out the good parts of the culture I'm from and the ones I identify with I'll wear docs under my saari no apologies I'll grind on dancefloors and do the best Bhangra dance you'll ever see unashamedly
Hareems and hoodies Bindies and pin up eyeliner Hedonism and head in the clouds
My ambition is Ambedkar untouchable My drive is a salt march surging silently non violently through cities My hometown pride is built in concrete and rickshaw dust, Prejudice and Bollywood lust