With color painted on my skin ,
I walk amidst these clouds ,
Too high , too scared to fall ,
To fall onto more melanin.
The more the melanin the more alien I become , they say.
I try to soak these clouds into me ,
Like I absorbed the Indian in my folks .
Like I carry a bunch of them beneath this skin.
Like my taste buds will always crave for more spice.

Like it is all I know.
Like I am always the one suffering with the wrong accent.
Like an accent could be right or wrong.
As if , proper has a sound of its own.
I come from the land of red soil
Soil being red from the blood .
I come from the air ,
Filled with all the carbon and heat
I come from the waters of Indian ocean .
But , mainly I come from my country , my India