Kamala Das Poems
|2.||The Testing Of The Sirens||3/28/2012|
|6.||The Stone Age||3/28/2012|
|7.||Punishment In Kindergarten||3/28/2012|
|11.||The Dance Of The Eunuchs||3/28/2012|
|13.||The Sunshine Cat||3/28/2012|
|16.||A Losing Battle||3/28/2012|
|17.||The Old Playhouse||3/28/2012|
|19.||Summer In Calcutta||3/28/2012|
|20.||My Grandmother's House||3/28/2012|
|22.||The Looking Glass||3/28/2012|
I don't know politics but I know the names
Of those in power, and can repeat them like
Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru.
I amIndian, very brown, born inMalabar,
I speak three languages, write in
Two, dream in one.
Don't write in English, they said, English is
Not your mother-tongue. Why not leave
Me alone, critics, friends, visiting cousins,
Every one of you? Why not let me speak in
Any language I like? The language I speak,
Becomes mine, its distortions, its queernesses
All mine, mine alone.
It is half English, halfIndian, funny ...
At sunset, on the river ban, Krishna
Loved her for the last time and left...
That night in her husband's arms, Radha felt
So dead that he asked, What is wrong,
Do you mind my kisses, love? And she said,
No, not at all, but thought, What is
It to the corpse if the maggots nip?
[from The Descendants]