On Changing the Faith

Obscured and sporadically loosened, I was when I chewed over my ancestry,
I was not a part unto a group, and so I toll the knell to become a part of an entirety;
You cannot label me from the character in this farce of life I playact,
It's a sin, the old folks would holler, yet I have changed my faith, my sect.

I foresake now, with deep apologies to my death forebears, and choler for the hoi-polloi,
Even I would not mind, if I'm excommunicated or people call me a loi.
Regrets for I'll call their favourite priests, who chant Sanskrit in Cantonese, no more
And anger for putting me off and keeping back prehistoric chatlam lutin and mores of yore.

Seeing that I have been a human being since man came unhurriedly out of nowhere;
But because we are a ‘piece of the continent' that the bard wrote somewhere,
As the Meiteis and Manipuris for millennia and centuries, we have been waxed
As the others for sixty-one fucking years — and on our patience, India has taxed.

I owe no one a grudge and am only in debt to my search for the ideal,
To break free from these chains of tapering vision and the living's ordeal
And it struck: how thrilling our book of absurd existence could be a brilliant opus,
If we belong together, in lieu of allowing the religions and countries to own us.