Yellow for this festival
And jasmines oozing their
Whiteness.
The Periwinkles with subtle
Pink by the fence that's
Always ignored and
The roses in full bloom
Dancing on the only sapling
That came up well after
Years of trying-
The blossoms in Grandma's
Garden was the beginning of
New Year back then.
She made Deities with
Cow-dung for the occasion.
Age-old tradition to pay
Tribute to our ancestors.
Anything that was deemed
As a weapon was washed
And worshiped that day.
The first time she had
Asked me for my book and
The pen for the pooja...
How I had felt like a warrior.
Fresh bravery in my bones.
Chased away pigs that day
In the backyard by myself.
I was heck of a Knight.