The plea of a fanatic.

The rainbow of hues emerged within her.

As the artist was buried within the sacred gender, as she weaved the realm with her allure through evolution.

Yes, she is an artist by birth, who steers the realm.

The stock she cooks possesses a mastery.

The rangoli, she composes amasses a masterpiece. 

The sketch she doodles defined a mastery.

The clay, she fiddles inceptions an idol.

The phrases she dyed, scripted an aptitude.

The image she captured, smudges a history.

Yes, she is a divine artist beyond a profession.

The unsaid words, she deciphers.

The yawn of burden, she stakes.

The vulnerable gender she is, the beliefs are just a myth.

As the wealth, the intelligence, and the courage resides in her, in existence not just in the paragon of her divinity.

Yes, she deserves autonomy from the cages of precious oases.

The tattoo of hers deciphers her passions.

The nail polishes of hers, hairstyle of hers express her mood.

The attire of hers, cannot express her complexion but her preference.

Though she reckons, the synthetic makeup of her grooms her class.

Yes, she reveals her identity as she gets primed in life. 

She remains rare, by being flawless for her admired ones.

She deserves, to choose what she wants. 

She deserves, to marry when she wants.

She deserves, to glide on the streets alone when and where she needs to.

Yes, it's her life. She doesn't need a guardian, integrity report and an expiry date adjudged by society.

She is delightful, as her elegance gets augmented.

When she wears a bindi, Mehendi, and notorious crystal bangles to reveal her presence as a memory to this fanatic.

It's not an insignia of marital status, 

it's not the shringar for lineage, 

it's not for the customary trend to 

impel a household.

It's a plea of an anonymous aficionado,

Who wishes to see her natural beauty, as 

the compassion drives her identity 

in overcast campaigns of shades of 

artifice who claim her insecurities 

and innocents.