“Glowing white skin in weeks!”
The fair skinned so-called feminist endorses.
“No. Curd and tomatoes.” Ma smears on my dark cheeks.
I would rather eat them, there are better chances.

“You get back early today.” Ma barks.
Oh, yet another suitable boy visiting with family?
Days after days, the calendar bleeds with red marks,
Of invitations to strangers for tea, to judge me.

“It’s all in her stars, Saturn and Jupiter.” Granny sighs.
“Pushing thirty and still a spinster.”
My good woman, I was born on Saturday, we’re allies.
And isn’t Jupiter too far up for schemes so sinister?

“Wait!” Ma firmly grabs me by the elbow.
“Panditji recommends a solution.”
Complexion won’t lighten, so is that fellow,
Helping me with vertical growth or horizontal reduction?

“Very funny, your planets won’t return to position, unless...
You err… marry a tree!” Ma fidgets, I can see.
Ma, I reckon, you wait for them to return, or else
Given a chance, I would rather live with the Tree.