Fiesta | Ramya Sree

Fiesta | Ramya Sree

In the evening, 

houses were decked up.

festoons flung in the air.

Even the trees draped

the electric swirls intended

to shine and shimmer. 

As Diyas popped up

everywhere, the place was lit heaven.

Kids were in thorough fun and frolic.

But elders were busy in flaunting 

and boasting their new arrivals. 

Festive spirit cupped with Stateliness 

was in the air. 

I too dressed up in

the best outfit to pitch in.

Exchanged sweets and pleasantries.

Amidst, I rolled my eyes

to make sure Reetu

was in the proxy. 

She – my six year old daughter

 is the heaven sent solace. 

Robbed in vibrant colour, 

the little devil looked splendid.

Hither and thither, she ran

being so much enthralled.

Engrossed in the festivity,

I was lost in exuberance.

A little later, my little princess wasn’t seen.

My legs shivered.

My hands trembled with fear.

I perspired.

My heart was in my mouth.

I glimpsed around bating and searching

The vicissitude blackened me.

Then came the light.

Yes. She stood far-flung

talking with a girl of her age.

I leapt and ran in a moment

to take her by my side. 

The girl seemed absent to the evident fiesta.

Although dusky, she looked charming,

with unruly and unkempt locks devoid of oil.

she wore an overflowing gown

patched everywhere, over 

her unbathed lean frame.

I enquired her whereabouts.

The slender hand pointed towards

the narrow corridors sleeping in 

darkness with no signs of Jamboree.

What a contradictory it was!!

At one end, the festive mood

is grand dancing with pomp and style.

The other end witnesses the darkness

being darkened and starved even to the meanest.

Reetu, questioned, ‘Where is her new dress?’

Tears rolled down my eyes.

looking at the created inequality 

as old and rich, despite the same age.

I hurried home, picked up

new dresses and neatly packed. 

Rushed down to visit her home

to make it a memorable Diwali for her.

Lighting up a diya,

I vowed to myself that

I shall be the mark of change,

If not for all 

at least for Her. 


Written by Ramya Sree

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