The Indian Mans Burden
Get to the party, the whole world is there
And every single girl has long black hair
You might think that’s funny, you might think that’s nice
Then you see your wannabe black cousins wearing their bootleg “ice”
One drunk uncle who tries to tell a joke
Another dumb uncle is tryin’ to get a smoke
You just wanna leave before they serve the curry
That stuff is nasty so you better hurry
Soon they bring out the mic
The keyboard plays “dang dong”
All the aunties call you
To sing the titanic song
Aunty one wants you to eat her “delicious ledoo”
Aunty two wants you to pray to holy Vishnu
You’re forced to hide, your little cousin seeks
But you can’t stand to hide in a house that wreaks
The smell could kill you, spice and fish
Yet again, your cousins’ acting so blackish
Mummy says it’s time to go
While she “says bye” for an hour or so
Go hug your grandma, and your cousin Tootie
Then from your aunty get a box of frooty
Take home some tupperware filled with sweets
You know that’s the only thing you’re gonna eat
It’s tough being Indian as you can tell,
But according to Kipling, being white can be like hell
So next time you’re at the airport, and make us take off our shoes
Don’t think of us all as just plain hindus
Cuz we’re the best race, and you can’t deny it,
Whether you’re white or black, don’t dare defy it
We’re Indian and we’re here to stay,
Make an observation.
Stop to sing a song.
Don't wear crocs.
1 comment:
i love how your poem keeps talking about how your cousins are black posers. HAHAHAHAH
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