Three aunties.

They sit at the mouth of the veranda

Unraveling a ball of yarn

Detangling the neighbourhood's goss'

The yarn twists, blood red

As they complain about the rising

Prices of tomatoes

The yarn twirls, blood red

As they poke their disapproving fingers in the 

Direction of the girl’s bare midriff

The yarn tangles, blood red

As they discuss the best recipes

For sour mango achaar

The yarn turns, blood red

As they sip their bitter

Ginger chai , down parched throats

Their nails, blood red

As they chuckle, adjusting

The lengths of their dupattas,

Pierce me with their kohl-lined eyes

And

snip.

✄𓂃𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃