Who is the insider, and who is the outsider?
Why do you always seem so hyper?
What is the hatred for?
The hatred that excites you to wage war.
Why, when a brown man you see,
You simply tag him a Bangladeshi?

But even if one were a Bangladeshi, is being one so bad?
Are they some poison? Are they the world's scum?
Touching whom you fear you can become one?
Or is it your arrogance that makes you so mean, so mad?

‘Bangladeshi immigrants,’ you say,
Burn their houses, and drive them away,
Away from the plains and from the hills.
Only then your heart's desire fulfills.

You call them outsider,
And take pride in being the insider
But where did you come from?
The land where you freely roam,
Existed much before you did.
You, too, are an outsider indeed.

Copyright © 2021 RAMU DAS