It’s the morning after Diwali

And I’m sitting out on my balcony –

Viewing the line-up of all the burnt out diyas

That tenderly glowed through last night:

Vibrant in a multi-coloured sequence –

With tiny light bulbs and slim candles,

Amidst the champa and chameli flowers,

Emanating distinctive aromatic scents –

Enveloping me with security and nostalgia

Of when I’d lit candles here in youth’s heaven.


A white ball, slowly comes into my view now –

It has to be the sun I convince myself,

For it’s adorned in a glowing orange-ring of hope,

Rising over the railing infolded in shrubs:

The new sun blushes in shades of tangerine –

Climbing out amidst cut-paper decorated terraces,

Dissipating its romantic glow – now far and wide

To raise the sleeping world into a latent new morn,

Where, as yet, only a lone pigeon daintily walks –

Over the slim waves of an old asbestos rooftop.


I look down at my half-finished cup of green tea

Set atop the tray in green and white vines,

When the sudden gust of a chilly breeze

Sends slight shivers up my spine in delight –

For there’s anticipation of the coming winter nights

Leading to Christmas and New Year moonlight nights

Where there will be you and me and lots of wine.


The crows are crowing, pigeons in hoards descend

Over a rooftop – with the best Diwali decoration,

Bringing me back to the present moment,

Where there’s peace and contentment and joy even –

For that’s what Love and Hope do for your determination

To live a life pursuing your dreams, vision and goals,

Without worrying about what your destiny might unfold –

So long as you bear the torch of satisfaction lifelong

That your heart’s not yet – and never going cold!











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