For to be an Indian English poetess, I left my husband,
Divorced and laid him back
For to be a poetess,
Modern and post-colonial,
Ultra-modern not, post-modern,
An Indian English post-modern.
Taking the hint from my Ph.D. guide
Who was also a poet of his right,
I learnt about the loves
Of Lawrence and Hardy,
Vatsyayana, Rajneesh and Freud
And also who introduced me to his circle
And I copied from his notes
To produce my Ph.D. so easily.
After shelving my hubby, I can now tour
And travel all alone
Whoever calls me for a seminar
As a resource person
or as a paper-reader,
I a modern-day Radha, Mira
Lost in the love of my own Krishna
And my books releasing across the borders
With the honey drips of my sweet smiles.
You just love me, love me,
Call me
And I shall come,
Call me with love,
Mind it I am desperate for poetry,
For coming into the limelight
Of the media glare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem