A Poem (And A Disclaimer)

This is one of the few things I've managed to write in recent times (nearly a year). And apparently I seem to have lost some of my confidence in the meanwhile because I am terribly unsure of whether this is worthy for anyone else's eyes. But, I will take a chance and post it anyway. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, they say.

I couldn't decide what to call it, yet. So for now, it remains untitled.

P.S : If it's awful, do be kind.

Here goes :


My beloved is brown.
Not a weak cafe-au-lait brown.
Brown-er.
Like the ripe, gooey tamarind flesh
that spills out of heavy, fallen pods
in the summertime.
A manly brown.

She is fairer, they said of me charitably.
(Just as it ought to be), by more than a shade or two.
Yet, I suspect, only barely enough for them to approve.
For mine is a warm shade.
Like the strong, south-indian, filter coffee
that swirled silkily in silver tumblers
on that morning we were married.

But it was only last night, in a loving moment,
when he held my hands tenderly in his,
and then later our fingers intertwined,
in a crisscrossing of light and shade,
that We first noticed this.
And laughed.

Now, he amuses himself by saying
I am the exact hue of his favourite brew.