dear son

this holi

your second

i still

don’t have

any colours

to give you

no sleepy faces

at the door

waiting

to pull

you out

of bed

no neighbours

filling

buckets

of cold water

to soak you

to the skin

awakening

every pore

of your spirit

no laughter

or loudspeakers

at the chowks

with the annual

o rang barse

song

i have

only

stories

memories

of the colours

that rained

orange, red

green and blue

creaky

golden pistons

our weapons

for a few

hours

puranpoli

amti

warm milk

and ghee

that melted

on my tongue

cacophony

of children

all talking

at once

shivering

with the

cold

the excitement

when

it’s your turn

son

don’t be

afraid

of a time

spent

abroad

surrender

to the colours

to the love

to your heart

watch

them fill

your life

just

one holi

day.