Indianness in Exile

I think of my people,
when an aching taste still cares about
home cooked leftovers in buttery yellow...
Yet compelled to forget that regional tongue
I let go of traditional patterned brights
hoping to be noticed as an individual
in this grey sea of commonness.

I think of my culture,
that teaches of warmth from
shared morsels of love and light,
when I am frozen by cold insensitive words.
Yet a sizzling tangy curry of expression
flows freely like many rivers of thought
under an awkward mind frost.

I think of my land,
as its vast diversity pledges of togetherness.
But a patched and stitched life in memories,
struggles to defend a fading poise.
Myriad prayers with faith laden lamps,
a needless but honest smiling head nod
and a generous joy to impart ancient folklores...

I think of my Indianness --- now in exile!