Though there is nothing like Indian English,
Pakistani English, Sinhalese English,
But instead of it call we
To write in English
To be bilingual or trilingual,
A man in dhoti and kurta
And with a turban around
And a linen towel on the shoulders
Speaking in English.
Dressed not like an Englishman in
The pants and the shirt,
The native folks trying to have a tryst
With the foreign tongue,
The way they speak,
Use the language,
A White European saheb with a memsaheb
Going on the roads,
Handshaking and waving at,
Smiling and saying it all with a namaste.
But an Indian will remain an Indian,
An Englishman an Englishman,
In costume, etiquette and manner
But an Indian foolish, rural and blunt,
Illiterate and backward,
Superstitious and blind to one's own faith,
Illogical and unreasonable,
Full of ethnic and racial diversities
And variations in thought and tradition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem