When colonisers came...

Short-sighted are those who anchor language to land.

Dam the flow of words

from mind to throat to tongue to hand

simply to avoid the inevitable.

When colonisers came and stole our country,

yet to be formed,

they gave us their angrezi

Just so we know what they achieved.

In turn, we took their speech

then books then India back

and now sit in our personal mess of a multilingual pleach.

But messes can be beautiful

especially with dialects involved.

Like picking jigsaw pieces from a new puzzle everyday

to create a picture of novel horror.

For the old that is.

Language, like literature,

loves mutant beings.

The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2021.