By Duyelika Kashyap
The year winds up
With winter's arrival.
When the entire town
Sleeves with the blanket
Of hazy clouds
In serene stillness.
I stood near my balcony
And peeped through it.
To glance the scintillating lights,
Palpitating amidst the misty dusts.
The voice of my Abba
Calling out- Jane!
Dress up quick.
It's Extravaganza!
I and Abba,
Every long year
Count the days
Until it's arrival.
The set up is
Next to my house.
The snaps of foggy view-
Of Marquee in the fields,
With red-green lights
Wrapped three sixty degrees
Round the fench.
Food stalls round the corner.
Stalls with pink cottony sweets-
'Dadi Amma's hair!'
I and Abba,
Every long year
Count the days
Until it's arrival.
I dressed in blue.
And Abba,
With his woolen scarf
Tucked around his neck.
Paved to the counter.
I giggled
At Abba's bulging belly.
As he traipsed;
And his thick moustache
Like Alexander's sword!
I and Abba,
Every long year
Count the days
Until it's arrival.
We darted and perched.
The lights went off and on.
A flock of bairn arrived-
Dancing and Twirling
Around the stage.
'With swords and firesticks!'
Maidens, barely half of my age
Somewhere in their early teens.
Eyes, gloomy-
Filled with chastity.
Dressed in brown
'A contrast to blue!'
Maidens from village
Ensnared in poverty,
Obscured by scarcity,
With no fortune to escape!
I peeped through the curtains;
Lights palpitating amidst fog
Wrapped three sixty degrees
Round the fench.
Food stalls selling sweets,
Tickets for show
Sold twice of its price.
Half a token and more;
Slipped into the pockets of producers.
Rest, divided among workers.
Children performing risky stunts-
To earn a meal twice a day!
I paused-
Looked around
For my Abba.
Sitting peacefully
With his huge belly
Bulging outwards.
I and Abba,
Every long year
Count the days
Until it's arrival.