Will There Be Another Holi Washed by Drinks?


Here comes March again, a familiar ghost.
Children bubbling with joy, hearts on fire,
Excited for the colors that bring life anew,
Ready with water guns, their aim so true.

They’ve packed the brightest hues,
And the sweetest 'gujiyas' to amuse.
Excited for that strong splash,
A color that clings, a lasting flash.

It was a flex to show,
How much color you could throw.
Festivals leave memories behind,
Some sweet, some a little more confined.

One child in the corner, a prayer on his lips,
Hoping this Holi won’t be lost in tips,
Wishing that the drinks won’t drown the day,
And take the colors of joy away.

Worry for that father, stumbling near,
Drowning his pain with every beer.
Those faces you can’t recognize anymore,
Filled with colors, eyes bloodshot, hearts sore.

They’re searching for someone who left home,
Waiting, hoping, feeling alone.
The fun fades, the spirit dimmed,
All that’s left is an alco-holi hymn.

Will there be another Holi washed by drinks,
Or will we rise above, and rethink?

                                    ~ By Pahadi Narratives

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