By Rajagopal Parthasarathy
By tongue in English chains
I return, after
a generation, to you.
I am at the end
of my Dravidic tether
hunger for you unassuaged.
I falter, stumble.
Speak in a tired language
wrenched from its sleep
In the Kural,
teeth, palatte, lips still new
to its agglutinative touch.
Now hooked on celluloid
you go reeling
down plush corridors.
