In the bright sunny afternoon when the sun was floating over the head and hullabaloo of Holi was slowly fading, he waited for his turn, hiding beside the thick bushes near the fencing of the house, holding a loaded Phichkari. His identity had lost behind the patches of colors. His face was just a palette of mixed colors – red, blue and yellow, and the white undergarment and trouser which he had always reserved as his Holi attire were wet, painted in shades of multiple gradients. He rubbed his itching eyes and dried colors from his arms.
As soon as he heard the ringing of a bicycle’s calling bell near the main gate, a wicked smile flashed on his face. He held the handle of the Phichkari firmly, waiting restlessly for a surprising action – only when he felt a sudden terror running through his veins and blood. Slowly, he tilted his head below and every single hair of his body shoot straight upward with fear. He held his breath with a wide gap of mouth and stood like a statue. His heartbeat was fast, thumping heavily and his eyes were moist. He felt a cold slow rubbing on the skin of his feet as a thin, jet black, golden-eyed, almost ten-inch long snake crawled gently upon his feet. Suddenly, drops of water rolled down through his legs. A few droplets splashed on the torso of the snake and it increased its speed sensing a danger. As soon as the snake escaped the feet, he jumped from the spot to land a meter away from the bush. The snake accelerated and crawled through the thick shades of the bush. The boy pressed the handle of the phichkari with force and poured coloured water on the bush, shouting with anger and despair.
“Robin, what happened? Playing Holi with the bush?” motherly uncle, Bittu Mama told unhooking the inner gate.
Robin looked at uncle frighteningly, wearing a pale facial expression filled with fear.
“And look, you are all wet. Go have a bath now. Lunch must be ready.” Bittu Mama told and strolled inside perching the motorcycle.
Robin felt coldness on his legs and realized that he peed on his pant. But Bittu mama failed to read about the peeing, as his body was already wet and the mark of pee blended with the mark of wetness. Robin sat down on the verandah, panting slowly. The snake had gone, Bittu mama had entered the house, gossiping and laughing inside, and Robin wondered –
“The comical little reptile must be snickering at me now.
But a memorable Holi it was, and a beautiful beginning of a Summer.”
You and me, make a garden
Where every bird chirps songs of love.
And plant trees of brotherhood
Remove all shades we hide
And take pictures with a brush of love.
Where children, fly kites with the door of love
And people, sing songs of equality.
When wind visit here,
Take all love with it
And spread it on its way.
Here we, make our house
But alas! you and me,
Can not complete this house
We can only do,
You love me, I love you.
As hopes die,
And desires shy,
One drowns in the deep seas of hopelessness,
No banks on the site.
One becomes a bird,
In a cage,
No blue skies to fly in,
Confined to the four walls,
No visible avenues of escape.
Days meandering to months,
No definite dates,
The haze of uncertainty,
In the befuddled mind,
Is this the beginning?
Or the end?