I am a Tamil, not a Hindu,
That name was never mine,
It came from the lens of the British eye —
But my blood knows only one sign:
Tamil.
I bow not to Ram of northern lore,
My feet find no path to Ayodhya’s door.
My God is fierce, with a spear in hand,
Murugan — the soul of this southern land.
No shadow of Shiva dims His flame,
He stands alone, in glory and name.
Sivaji? A stranger to my tale.
But Cheran, Cholan, Pandian — they sail
Through my veins, through my skies,
Their valor lives where my spirit lies.
I do not chant in Sanskrit tones,
My prayers are sung in Tamil alone.
My God speaks my mother’s tongue,
In every word, His name is sung.
We Tamils kneel to none on earth,
We weigh no soul by caste or birth.
No gender, no creed, no sacred divide —
All who breathe stand side by side.
I do not seek God through a vegetarian gate,
My ancestors offered meat on His plate.
They sacrificed, they cooked, they fed —
Faith was in the living, not the dead.
I am a Tamil — ancient and proud,
Not hidden in saffron, not lost in the crowd.
Hindu is a name they gave to me,
But I was Tamil —
And will always be.