A splash of colour to my humdrum soul
Now your lack echoes over these dhol
Your face in mind slips farther each day
It's Holi today, but you're not here to play
Seeing kids spray water in the sky
I go back to that one night in July
Two strangers under the dim light
Walking together, into the night
To relive that rainy day, I step ahead
My damp hair gets clung to the head
Our conversations painted the lane
Love dripping on the roads mundane
The messages you sent burst in me
Like small water balloons filled of glee
A stab of your pichkari and then I bled
But then you dipped my sorrows in red
Walked around Holika's fire to marry
Memories of our first Holi, I still carry
How against your hair, sunlight glared
At my rainbow dear, I long stared
Reminiscing you make a run for it because
I'd throw gulal at you, being the rascal I was
But at last, your fingers traced my cheeks too
How time slowed as the gulal slipped through
I wear your gifted white kurta this year
Begging of you, please, my lovely dear
Don't leave me bare this special day
Rang de mohe, piya re
All this bhang is taking a toll on my sanity
I keep wishing to mistake you for reality
Need another glance of you, my eyes sore
Let me soak in your colors some more
You were the gulal laying gentle in a tray
A cruel wind came when I walked your way
With that you fled in the air all around me
A stranger to my touch, yet you're all I see
Troubled at the thought of never seeing you again
Come my saajna, fill all your colours in me then
The idea of losing you fills me with dread
I regret all the love that I left unsaid
Hia Alex!
I don’t like the passive phrasing. Could “clinging” work?I saw you had this in your featured works so ofc I had to go and check it out, eventually =D
I like the unfamiliar words sprinkled into the poem—and I especially like “your lack echoes[…]” that is such a cool phrase!
Also it rhymes! It rhymes!
Tho I do feel this one isn’t what it’s cut out to be:
Interesting to hear this phrase:
Maybe it is something cultural… but I find it fascinating that this line seems to come with a positive connotation?
Aww the ending is kind of sad, like I guess most of your poetry. I love the haunting longing in the narrative, I love that yes, I am not familiar with some of the key words but I don’t feel like I’m missing out on something either. Like, the rest of the poem carries the weight of these words well.
I love the phrases like
Like this could mean dissipating, like smoke but also that the presence is felt despite the absence…
And ofc this:
Ending on the perfect rhyme 😊
Thank you for the review, Tikaa! This poem is quite close to my heart, so it's pleasure to hear your thoughts on it.
Shoot, guess I should make you familiar with some stuff you need to know here.
Holi- it's a festival of color in my country. Basically you apply coloured powder (gulal) to friends and family (modern celebrations also include water mixed with a harmless colour dye), celebrating what's culturally marked to the end of a mythologically greedy in a way immortal king by the Gods.
Dhol- it's a local musical instrument, like the drum but you use your palm against the dhol's circular head surface (which has more of a leathery texture)
Haha love the enthusiasm!
Pichkari- have you see hand pumps to fill air in balloons? Similiar, except you spray water on each other with it.
Holika- now this is tricky, as it requires another storytime. Holika was basically the evil King's sister. Let's start with why the king was so bad first- because he made his entire kingdom worship him, and not God. Yet his own son was a devotee of God and thus refused to follow the orders. To set an example, the king asked his sister to take his son and sit in the fire with him. Actually Holika couldn't burn, because of a boon from Gods except no one knew how it worked. Turns out, she was blessed with an inflammable invisible blanket. Seeing everything from Heaven, God taught the evil king a lesson and saved His devotee- by moving that blanket from Holika to the child. As a result, Holika burnt but the child survived. This was the battle, Holi being the war. Holika is celebrated by a bonfire.
Gulal- colour powder
Kurta- a long upper garment (a full t shirt sorts, but extends to half the calves) men wear traditionally
piya re- oh, beloved
bhang- a drink with opium that causes hallucinations. Basically a drug.
saajna- also a way to refer to your beloved
It'd exceed the syllable limit here, breaking meter. Try reading the rhyming couplet in one go and you'll see it gets a little wordy around there your way. I did think this through, and couldn't find a perfect way so I'm choosing meter (I very rarely nail it) as my version isn't necessarily grammatically wrong either.
Well decoded, but I understand the confusion. My fault I believe, for not seeing it could be taken two drastically different ways.i believe you see the red for blood here, a fair interpretation. But I wrote it with the intention- red is the color of love, so she has painted over his 'sorrows' to make them 'love'.
You really know me hehe
The rhyming here is such a JOY to read amazing job on that. I feel I could just rave about that the whole review.
....
So this is amazingly personal and simultaneously relatable, every time i reread the poem i find another tidbit that makes me kinda sorta tear up
"Our conversations painted the lane
Love dripping on the roads mundane" mmmm love how this line has that holi 'paint' vibe
"Walked around Holika's fire to marry
Memories of our first Holi, I still carry" the references you use are just so good I actually want to forget this whole poem and read it again.
"Don't leave me bare this special day
Rang de mohe, piya re"
oh yeah that's just my heart breaking don't mind it
And some of the lines are just so breathtakingly intimate I don't even know what to point out because EVERYTHING is so perfect my god. This poem is so evocative and the imagery used is so tender, it churns my heart.
no notes only tissues cuz you've BEEN THROUGH IT.
"I regret all the love that I left unsaid" ugh and now you're saying it all through this poem ughhhhh my heart
Make me the judge plsssss all the laurels and medals to you darling
11/10, will read again <33333
Thank you for such kind words, eucalyptusjoos! You really made my day with this one
I can't appreciate it enough. I just wanted this entry to be perfect before I submitted it for that issue, and things just flowed then. And I hate to break it to you but - (yeah don't open the spoiler if you would like to stay in the bubble. It does have a writer's behind the scene but might spoil the mood and I don't want to impose the truth on you)
The entire poem is fictitious XD
Spoiler
It had no real muse, and I've never personally felt any of the things I felt. Some creative ways were used though. I missed my bsf who studies in another city after being neighbours our entire life. So I used that longing to channel the tone. And I had a die-hard childhood crush (I mean she's a girl but I hadn't figured out I'm gay until then lol) for writing it as love. Rest was pure brainstorming, often led by the available rhyming options. So the reality isn't all that dramatic alas. BUT this has been the best love poetry I've written till date, no doubt. All for someone who doesn't exist, I'm as surprised as you.
Aww this is lovely regardless, there's gotta be some angsty indian teen out there who relates lol
But even if the events aren't real your whole thought process gives quite some credence to its existence. Our feelings are always true, even if they're only in our minds and not out there in the world. Anyway, its a job really well done and a treat to read <33
I love this line: 'The messages you sent burst in me
Like small water balloons filled of glee' It is a love that's lacking yet not lost, yet it bursts on the other shamelessly. It always gifts each other joy; however. To me I see that these lines mean: "A stab of your pichkari and then I bled
But then you dipped my sorrows in red" He picked me, but not my trauma, so he gets angry. This is by far the truest poem, I've read on here. Thank you for gifting myself back to me. Picking a water balloon, reminded me of childhood glee that could be faked yet turned against you.
Thank you for the kind words!