Tanned skin, combed hair
From wrist to elbow and ankle to pubis
Even a healthy dose of testosterone
Does not make you a south Asian
Just a googly tradesman from the orient
Under the watchful eye of throngs
After all you can become a Chinaman
Even if you don’t possess
Oriental eyes, clean jawbones
And a thick head of hair
When you are just a freaky southpaw
Who likes to invert his noodle wrist
And make bicycle wheel rotations
Spinning the fabric of deception
Around a chopped stick
Of a cricketing bat.