black vermilion

< କଳା ସି଼ଦୁର > (black vermilion)

there was yearning in me
no sense of what is right
i was ready to risk
take your hand
and be like your kind
whose soil people would only spit on
forgetting that the same soil is used to sculpt
the sacred figurine of goddess durga

one day i told you my ache
you marked how sinful my thoughts were
and i smile at you like a maniac

you would say your kind are treated so harsh
you would question why am i giving-
me the poison of death while living
i say i give no care

you would loathe me
for not rejoicing my pride
oh little would you know
my pride lies in your longing eyes, how depraved i am to make you mine
you say our love is black not red
oh! little do you know
how i always part my hair
in the crave for your black vermilion then.

note - heavily inspired by the devdas where two of the three main characters fell again, in the tragic web of sinful love.

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