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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


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