True Colours

By Priyanka Dharwadkar

Black-as-the-night charcoal,

Brown-as-the-earth clay,

We slather on us

To look bright as day—

Not a hint of our selves,

Becoming a pale imitation,

We then lie under the heavens

For some tint from the sun.

Yet we dare divide and decide

That select skin is superior,

And inject in infant flesh

Insecurity and fear.

What’s next?

Removing the cherry on top

Lest the icing get stained,

Or whitewashing VIBGYOR

As if it never rained?

By Priyanka Dharwadkar