Give me that cold air,
The heart craves for it,
The anticipation of festivities,
Sweets, lights, the niceties.
The school is in session,
Yet feels like holidays,
Goals are to be met,
But postponed to another day.
Frolicking in innocence,
Under the parents’ aegis,
Life’s a cozy nook, the mind can rest
While the leaves flutter in nature’s unrest.
The Durga Puja Pandals are up,
The music tolls, the night is young
The girls are out with shining jewels,
The air is a cocktail of God and Devil.
There is no dearth of God,
Religion, chants, everywhere,
But the heart is content, at peace,
Things of matter, accessible with ease.
I hold the hands that matter, tight,
They take me to the pandals,
Melas, food stalls, all the happiness,
The night may end, but tomorrow, we’ll come again.
With that promise, I fall asleep,
While the cool breeze brings to me,
The music from a distant, the flickering lights,
Of the Mela, awaiting tomorrow, and my sight.
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