In moments of reflection deep, I muse
On tales told from seats of privilege and recluse.
Assuming they lead our community's plight,
Drawing from the West, casting on us their trite.
Years of research, yet perceptions remain unswayed,
Tagged anti-progress, in a tiresome charade.
From ancient roots, haven't we evolved?
Yet in their gaze, mysteries unsolved.
Our lands, our life, they claim as prize,
Marginalizing us with silent sighs.
Through the lens of caste, then chance denied,
In shadows we stand, our spirit defied.
Yet, anchored we stay, to the trinity we trust:
Water, forest, and the earthen crust.
And when we rise, they wield their might,
Mimicking colonials, in a familiar fight.
Whispers of Peripherized Roots weaves a narrative about the Adivasi journey. In this
poem, privilege and exploitation are intertwined in a delicate dance. The resounding
resilience of our communities and the enduring bonds we have with the lands that shape our
identity are also reflected here.
Manish Surin is a PhD researcher at the University of Sussex, England. You can find
him on Instagram @_manishms_