The Immigrant Song.
The Immigrant Song
Vishnu Vardhani Rajan
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Strangers are made. Strangers in every shade. Strangers are unmade. Strangers in ascendant order arranged Strangers from the right brigade Strangers from the beginning commanded Strangers at the end fade Strangers weighed Strangers are crows; with a collective noun, murdered Strangers in company of strangers bled by blunt blade Strangers, a familiar figure yet afraid Strangers like myself I recognised Strangers I say hello to and they say hello to me too in the cavalcade. గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు గద్దింపు Keka I wish you rest. So you can - Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight with your two pollices! Fight the police! Fight the policies! Fight until all have the right to sit! Fight for the toilets! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight with your two pollices! Fight with a song! Fight with a dance! Fight against the norms! Fight the neuro typicalities! Fight with your pen! Fight with your needle! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight with your two pollices! If the eyes shine while hands soil If you complain and no one affirms you If stories are replaced by theories Even if many lines are dead If you permit yourself to poke fun at me at my expense If hitherto Hit her to If smile is a sign of stress If happiness was more a concealer If joy is a burden and laughter is inappropriate If dangerous art could be made with a pencil If I cannot even express it to myself ‘ If you can lose even if you do not play If the obsession to succeed leads to incessant failure If failing is only for the privileged If her fight against the privatisation of land and water isn't just one in Punjab, Telangana, India or south asia, If only I embrace your understandings with my whole heart in a relativistic world, If you paid me a rupee and I paid you a euro If the past is lost not just as time but also as a place If the answer comes only when a question is asked If the question will never be asked If you read about slaying dragons, while I read about safety shelter and home, If you ask me ‘BUT why do you live here? If I am hysterical, disorderly, ungovernable, a danger to myself and others, If he left out the part that reflects the question of HOW ELSE ? if not this, I should have behaved? If my right way to grieve may not be lawful here ? If creativity anxiety and sadness were inseparable sisters If you scribble it flew away below the question ‘Our national bird is...?* If it took us stepping into this land to embody the outsiderness If my gloomy quotidien was put on a pedestal with a tag - Artists at Risk If Olen Kettumainen Mamu If intelligent educated people are less ideologically tolerant If Socialist part of this story rings of a legend, a narrative than a political fact. If the business of documentary film making relies on the inability to say no If I do not die tomorrow If today is the first time I didn’t feel alone. Gorgeous I was with all my imperfections. Imperfections that were mere projections of those gazing upon me. If your smiles are the garment I wear. If I got one care woven garment, that protects me from the days in the valley. If your company carries me to the mountain peaks. If I thank Ye for the heavy brown-crown, If I wore it as if it were a feather and smiled, If there is strength in their heart, determination in their eyes... If they were a warrior, a bitch, a lover, a child, a daughter, a sinner, a saint, And If indeed they do not feel ashamed. If they knew the shame belonged to no individual to begin with. If it’s JUST an other
#noshame