As I walked towards the tarred road in Delhi
eyes mottled, fingers pointed and words rolled
I talked to myself what this could mean
and it means they have come again
they hungry Blacks have come again
but I ignored the mottling eyes and pointing fingers
and walked down Pahar Ganj
then, I listened to words
and as they lushed words
of what use is an Indian woman
that she has nothing in common in the world
than to make the bed and cook
sponge her hair and wash the children
work and browl beyond the world
as though they are meant for cows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is more than my poem 'WHITE PEOPLE' that generated alot of controversy...