Yada Yada Yada

by Hemang Desai

When the tongue of a yokel
Uttering globalization got twisted
A sharp stab shot in the gash
I cut this morning with tongue cleaner
American accent is a juicy candy
Desi tongue should be thoroughly cleaned to suck it
The capitalism of language
May not be easy to swallow
But it reaches straight down stomach
The accursed lackey of hunger blabbers
At the brothel of languages
—Good morning madam. What can I do for you madam?
—We’ll give you thirty percent discount on our deluxe products.
—Special Diwali bonanza…Awesome Christmas offer
—Valentine Day: A day to express your love to that special one in your life with a secret gift.
—You bloody Gujjus, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.
Do visit the seconds market of my mother tongue, sir.
Look at my marvelous bust and fleshy thighs
Dry-cleaned cunt and manacled limbs
Fuck me the way you want
Buy me at throw-away prices
Money back if you don’t have fun
Completely original stuff, no China bazaar, sir.

I doubt whether your updated system would
Decipher the outdated code language
Of my private feelings
Still I’m sending this SMS to you
Forward it to seven others if you like it
And you’ll have good news in next seven births.
To express, to be expressed, to be unexpressed
What do these usages really express?
Do we express through language
Or language expresses through us?
The language of the unexpressed is
More meaningful than the language of the expressed
That truth was hidden in the stony eyes
Of a Nepali girl worth five hundred bucks
Lapping her anemic tongue, I got exhausted
But couldn’t figure out her tale
Everything except man is subject to pollution here
Religion, caste and of course language
The seeds of letters sown in the soil
Of my hybrid tongue do not sprout
Not a fruit of word or a flower of verse
They even don’t burrow down
To dissipate in flesh and blood
They just spawn gigantic scales
Stomach reaching nether world in one container
Layers of tongue skin in the other.
I’m not the Bali scapegoat getting crushed under
The cosmic feet of stubby linguists and
Strapping eunuchs who lift up their ghagharas
At slightest provocation, I’m sorry.
Graves of Marathi manoos, vibrant Gujarati or Bengali babu
Would not fit me.
Now you’d hear live telecast from radio Babel
—May all languages turn on heat
—May the sty of languages overflow a bit
The theory of free sex was conceptualized by a polyglot
In his doctoral research he categorized hunger in three types
Hunger of stomach, hunger of body, hunger of soul
Where did this hunger of language buzz in from?
State the difference between the hunger of tongue
Of those impotents who banished him
And my own tongue of hunger
Those who haven’t qualified even for grace marks
In languages call out loud with me
Yada yada yada