Mukul’s poem for Different Truths depicts an old man, now filled with jingling coins and a renewed spark, heading home with his earnings from the Holi market.
The containers emptying of colours,
filling him a nervous relief,
The amplifying clink of the coins
animating his stilled bearing,
The extinguished eyes turn
two flickering flames,
Their radiance is a gleaming dusk.
With sprightly steps, he emerges
from the village Holi market,
Headed to his hut.
At home, he parks his selling kit,
Shoots a smug smile at his wife,
emptying his pocket of coins
for her to count,
Comes out to dust off his attire,
It is a discoloured grey,
The flying dust intrudes into
The colours raised by a Holi troupe.
The old man sells all his
Colours for coins.
Picture design by Anumita Roy





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