Why not let me speak in any language I like? The language I speak becomes mine, its distortions, its queernesses all mine, mine alone. It is half English, Half Indian, funny perhaps, but it is hones, It is an human as I am human, don’t You see? It voices my joys, my longings, my Hopes, and it is useful to me as cawing Is to crows or roaring to the lions, it is human speech, the speech of the mind that is Here and not there, a mind that sees and hears and Is aware.
New edition of the first poetry collection of Kamala Das.