Accursed

She stands behind the wooden shutters

Sunlight filtering through the slats

Bathing her pale face with coloured dust

Colours of Holi denied in her white canvas

She the accursed!

Denied to participate, colours don't touch her white pallette 

Death stole her mate, consigned 

to remain the black widow 

She the accursed!

She remembers previous years

Being dragged out of bed

Powdered with gulal; 

Her beauty even more enhanced

She was loved!

She the accursed, stands apart

Watching the gaiety, sprinkling of colours

Plucks up her courage

Scrubs vermillion on her face

Playing Holi with herself.