Note: This poem won the 1st Runner Up Award at BTB RHYTHMIC AFFAIRS S5
Her long tresses unfurl dark like the dusk,
The comb softly strokes the tangles away,
Her almond eyes lined with kohl, lips parted in a smile,
The mirror catching her grace, she’s poised for the day.
The fragrance of tea wafts through the air,
Spices and savouries scent the kitchen and home,
Oh, it’s time for that often-mundane chore,
To showcase herself to a stranger from unknown.
Curd – tomato- cucumber paste, mother chimes her entry,
Better be devoured, why waste on my face, she reckons.
Makes your skin look whiter, Ma hands the bowl,
And she gazes at the spread of myriad emulsions on her vanity.
A whirl of elegance, a dancing child prodigy,
Oft snubbed at school, for cohorts of paler skin tones.
Her talent, her radiance, flowing like gentle streams,
Faded away as lighter hues stole the thrones.
The silent law commanded turning to false gloss of lies,
Fairness creams, a bunch of those, trafficking deceit.
Kali! The jibes lingered, and marred the promised teenage romance,
Beauty being only skin deep, a mask beneath the heat.
Degrees on the wall, workplace laurels adorning the shelves,
Coming of age had soared her spirit like the dawn.
Brightening balms now rebranded sans the Fairness phrase,
Shadows of doubt beneath her Wheatish complexion almost gone.
Alas, the arena of Blissful Matrimony was eternally brutal,
Grooms of all shades seeking Snow White for their bride.
Time had blurred the nightmares, she cared no more,
But the wounds seldom healed, some scars couldn’t hide.
So she donned the vegetable pack,
And a pastel Sari to veil her bronze visage.
Readying herself to parade before guests,
And an impending spurn message
