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Holi

By Paramjit Bakhshi


I remember

The colours of childhood,

On Holi we had the excuse

To bathe others in a rainbow

And get smothered by their

Exuberance of many hues.


But as we have grown

We sit on the other side

Of the prism

Reverse engineering

Our varied palette

Into moral black or white

Or grey.





Having forgotten

The play

The enthusiasm

The lovely spontaneity.


Sitting immobile,

Wizened and aloof

Feeling superior

Yet. Colourless.


By Paramjit Bakhshi





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