symptoms of a colonial hangover 

at the immigration desk your tongue becomes your passport
the more angrez you sound the more you become native
so you speak proper english with proper pronunciation
endlessly reciting she sells sea shells on the sea shore
until your mouth settles in its new firangi mould

that garland of letters remains dormant in your mouth
characters that hang off bars as if terrified of the fall
or when they reveal a noose like the letter व
that sounds weak and violent at the same time

language is showbusiness and you carry its burden
an entertainer switching in and out of your अजनबी skin
testifying your life’s purpose to the border officer
while he casually mispronounces your name
is it worth it when he says yourenglishissogood?

your mother tongue is at war with your other tongue
the aftermath ends up in looted words
you now become اجنبی in your own home

a boat moored to shore
but you’re always in water