Basant
Basant is known to ruffle routine –
The bright festival unfolds us
Like an aerial landscape, from where
We have seen kites and bees swarming
Rooftops, little mustards and promises sprout,
Little brothers dressed like the father,
Little rose-brown girls in yellow clothes –
Ourselves.
Gopis of Braj are also waiting
In bangles and kohl, I’m told, –
Praying the prank be granted –
For a chance to play Hori again,
For sprightly Krishna to arrive,
Wear makeup and dance to their songs.
When the prayer is not granted,
Frenzied men shower clouds of pink,
As in narrow streets of Barsana,
And women tend their itching bones
With sound beatings.
