Holi- A Festival Lost in Colours

I was asked by few of my colleagues to write and recite a poem on the occasion of Holi. I am sharing with you the poem I wrote. I did realize that a lot of people didn’t understand Hindi in my office and also did an english poem translation. The translation is added below the original poetry.

Holi Hindi Poem

My friend when you put the colours of the Holi on my face, I relived the times of my childhood

The sense of being carefree, the essence of friendship were all conveyed only as those colours could.

Those colors narrated stories of growing up around my home and those quaint by-lanes,

The sweetness of those little gujhiyas made by my mom in that gulal refuses to faint .

In this era where the country is struggling with the Saffron and Green.

The memories of Holi schooled me on the importance of the Red, Yellow, Orange and Cream.

My friend when you put the colours of the Holi on my face, I relived the times of my childhood

The sense of being carefree, the essence of friendship were all conveyed only as those colours could.

 

Today on this festival of Holi I find myself in a fix and bind,

No colours around, only the Instagram filters I find.

The fun and the quest of long lasting colors which were almost contraband,

Lasting twenty four hours Holi on such Snapchat messages is what I fail to understand.

The evil in Holika which got charred, the divine in Prahlad did survive,

Such deep sentiments from “Sefie with Holi Fire” on social media I fail to derive.

The holy pyre which is meant to burn away all the animosity, evil, jealousy and greed,

I fail to understand that with five thousand friends on facebook, but no one to speak to indeed.

I don’t know if this is the trance of the Holi, or the slight winds of Phalgun in the woods,

But my friend when you put the colours of the Holi on my face, I relived the times of my childhood.

 

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