An evocative poem on Holi, by Krish, exclusively for Different Truths.
Unable to slip away from festive pastels to flee the marauding hand pumps spraying coloured water To slink away from hands clenched with powdery colour That dabbed your face and hair And then drenched wet over your body, sparing no quarter Of all that you wear The amorphous explosive shapes of watercolours A smoky fog of ashen hues That deride the skills of Degas, Dali, and Monet too Oh those colours some permanent, some stubborn, some relentless, And some unrelenting To the urbane coaxing From the oil, The fragrant soap or the hardest scrub Wincing at the rude Sea of ungenteel spectral mixture The day of the Holi A day that celebrates freedom from folly With a divine retribution of colour On this annual fixture.
Visual by Different Truths