My English

My English, it is neither King’s nor Queen’s English, Nor British English, My English my own, It is nor American English, Full of Americanism and Americanness, Nor with the English accent and stress Full of fine tonal effects and nasal sounds. My English my own which speak I Laboriously learnt, library-consulted With the pronunciation and speaking power of my own, One which full of so much so Indianism, I mean the Indian words, Going through the process of Indianization And tracking the theme of Indianness, Just like the vernacular or any other regional language Or dialect of the region speak I, Giving it the colour of some Indian tongue and tenor But the English speak I, understand they not, Taking it for some spoken at home, Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati, Bengali, Assamese or Oriya, Punjabi, Sindhi, Haryanvi, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada or Malayalam Or some of the tribal stock. And I going, speaking in my own right, Reading and giving the seminar paper Without a stop As they may question me in good English With a tone of their own And which I may not understand, Hence, I going like a non-stop, brake-failed cart As the platform of my own lies it there, Ay, the diaspora dais is there.