ONE OF A KIND

Quite recently to a spring dance I went
Where many a happy hour was spent
With my wife who is a Malayalee
And diverse friends who danced with glee

On this night, “tradition” was the theme
But, to many, it did quite rightly seem
That I wasn’t in the proper attire
For someone who comes from India

The veshti from the South, the sherwani from the north
With intricate colours and textures wrought
Would have, with chappals, added to the “desi” touch
As would the kurta, pajama and such

To clearly explain why I was in coat and tie
I had to point out where my origins lie
And, hence, began a tale about the “dingo”
A culture and community of which very few know.

For, despite being the bastards of colonial rule
We pioneered the Indian railway, telegraph and school
And created our own mix of culture and community
A brand with a unique Anglo and Indian identity

We are English by name and Indian by birth
A community that loves laughter and mirth
A culture unique to both, India and the world
Forged from a spirit, daring, adventurous and bold

Our culture is as diverse as it is unique
For there is a common touch to our food and music
As there is to the language we speak, write and sing
Though from wide corners of India we spring

We might be the leftovers of a British empire
But our food has its own flavour and fire
For, if you’ve tasted coconut rice and ball curry
You would not leave the table in a “hurry-burry”

And when the heavens pour down and cry
Be sure there’s pepper water and beef fry
Or if “Santa Claus is coming to town”
There’s ginger wine to knock him down

With cul-culs, rosacookies and Christmas cake
That the entire family did, joyfully, make
Or he could even try our dawl, rice and vindaloo
For these are, our favourites too.

The most interesting trait of any ‘dingo”
Is the unique touch he adds to his lingo
For, down south, he’d say “Enna da maacha”
While waving to a friend at a corner quite far

When my wife speaks to her father, she calls him “Papa”
A term we use for grandpa, and for, grandma it’s “Nana”
Who can give you a “kottu” if you are bad
And tickle you with “bully ants” if you are sad.

Or they might have even given you the “fijacks”
If you, “little bugger” had done something behind their backs
Or while eating cutlets on the way to Velankanni
You say the rosary and sing “Serangani”

We love our music, song and dance
And at festivals you can see us prance
With the chacha, foxtrot and the jive
To the tunes of a band, that is vibrant and live

At your wedding, the “Grand March” is played
And with confetti, you are loudly sprayed
While the band plays Engelbert Humperdink
A toast is raised and glasses clink

Charley Pride and Jim Reeves may quietly croon
On nights when the family sits under the stars and the moon
Or you might play the guitar under the trees
And enjoy your booze in the afternoon breeze

In different corners of the world, we now reside
But in our heritage we take great pride
For even though our “fathers” once left us behind
We blended in and created a community, one of a kind

So, if my English name with my Indianness, one cannot relate
This poem I will recite, or this tale I will narrate
To give them a picture of the good, old Anglo-Indian
A community that was once conceived in sin.