The tongue’s the place of hybrid culture
Spitting languages like fire from the East
But the other comes more naturally
Saarey jahaan se achaa and God save the Queen.
Am I thinking like a coloniser?
A child of the colonised
A heart split with betrayal
Because in my mother tongue I struggle to
communicate. No, I’m a picture of the East
born into the West. My culture’s neither here nor there
– it’s all mixed up. Us children of immigrants
we’re something else entirely. We take the best of each
and create our own. No fixed place, we’re nomads,
through cultures we roam.