I AM A BIHARI

Slaughtered in the North- East,
Ostracized in Maharshtra
Abused and mauled in Delhi.
Stand as a confused witness
To a cultural paradox
Representing shrunken ‘India’
Entertaining people
With its cultural mimics.
I am shy enough
To disclose my identity.
For the extent proved shackle
The rendered resultof battle of wits
Was not some, short of debacle.
I owe to me my agonies
With perplexities keeping me at bay
A conspiring world to avenge
And shattered emotions struggling to say.
Was is a sequel of my doing
Or rather the act of undone mooing.
That put the shovels across the fate
And marked the gloomy, morbid; trait.
I stand baffled and seeking forgiveness
To the set of emotions unprocessed
For it’s injustice indeed to mores of life
If the hard-earned experienced sublimate compressed.