shakespearewhy do you write poemsfor a male friendwho might have been morethan a friend, shakespeare?are you not afraid of thechurches and courts?what makes you love the ladyand the lord equally?how can you fall for bothromeo and juliet, othelloand desdemona? is it evenlegal to do so? what aboutthe 377 of your time?again, and againa dalit girl has been raped againagain media will try to look awayupper caste will be caste blind againagain police will act as trainedvictim will join the queue againagain courts will take its sweet timeanother dalit girl will be raped againagain it will just become a numberlovelovea languagethat is not spoken enoughbodies andsouls, crave forbut failto learnas the languagegoes extinctin the mediocrityof copying and pastingdictionarieslovea languagethat is in deathbedfull stop, commaone sign can changeif the language livesor dies, in between lipsnever opened, closedi shall not be presentto witness the languagei killedbhogalithe fish i eateats up my pockettwo days of daily wagesame as one kilogramof the chitalfamilies sitting togetherbusy on their phonesmy stomach is filledheart left emptyonly your eyesmajrooh sultanpuri came to my houseand while leavingdropped a few words –those words were eaten by the soilover the next few days and whenit rained, again the words sprouted outgrowing into evergreen songsi took those songs to madan mohanand he picked one for rafi sahabthat song praised your eyesmy love, truly,tere ankhaon ke siwa duniya mein rakha kya haiExcerpted with permission from Served Cold from the Refrigerator, Sutputra Radheye, Red River Press.