We explore -
earn and exist -
with a language
of old exploitation.
Like a mulatto,
Indian English
is a hybrid.
It's as our culture -
there's a unity
in diversity.
We winnow ideas out
of dialectal chaff.
Language
mustn't be imposed.
Linguistic
extremism is a myopia.
Wherever you grow,
your mom and hue
remain the same,
but your tongue can be
changed from the cradle.
English thrives above
creeds and colors,
connecting continents,
never demanding a passport.
First published in The Literary Hatchet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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