Why not? I ask.
Why not just you name everything
The way you think it should be,
Why you just want to make your colours
Your gods shown and reflected in the names
Name the places, also, with the souls.
Name Delhi for the street food, name it
So it can make the mouths watery, and name it
For the mouths devouring a young girl on a closed bus, every day,
Name it for the crimes looked after and committed
In those halls and assemblies
Name it after your toilet cleaner, or protection
Just to make it clear, that children are to be the builders of future
Not to be the murderers of present.
Why not name Mumbai after broken dreams,
Or fake stars, or dandy shoes, or glitters,
And all flesh and lust, and wide belladonna screaming eyes
Name it after casual molestation, name it after exploitation
Name it after lures, cures, and happiness,
Name it after the stinking swelling sweet crowd,
Or name Bangalore after machines and call it a land of limp limbs
And weak eyes and no hearts
Call every place, like you want, choose anything from its soul
And name it, change it, and go on
Until it sounds right
And when it does, change it again.
A rose will smell as sweet even if it's named arse
But you're still going to stink, even after naming and renaming
Writing and rewriting histories
For in imagining and advocating and Don Quixoting the past
You're losing your parting present, and farting future.
Name yourself after all the fuckeries you've been part of
And then slit your nerves and bleed.
Go on, change the name of everything you want
Call this a gospel, call me a god, and my words your religion,
Or call me a demon, and my words black magic
Or just call the living dead.
The day will come when the generations will call you piece of shit
And noone will raise a finger in opposition.
—on changing names