A man of this world

The green paper turned brown and then black above the flame

Somebody whispered my nickname

And then laughed

Tidings of betrayal came and then trickled in burnt red ears

The tears which flowed had no colour, no colour at all, just like those of the betrayers whom sneered.

Their teeth seemed yellow and stained with my non-blue blood.

And yellow was the colour of the t-shirt I wore years later, when crude words sprawled on my back in black felt pen.

Colourless was the apology from the culprit, as colourless as I am viewed by my 'colour-blind' allies whom don't believe my plights.

For I am too white to be Indian

For I am too brown to be British

And I am too mixed to own any colour

To know where I am really from.