Holi

Holi has behind it legend great

Among festivals we rever and treat

With reverence in mind festive

All round people look restive

Hiranakashap was a haughty king

Stressed masses for praises always to sing

He was brute but never mute

Prahladha was his son always cute

There was havoc wrought all round

No compromise no mental sound

Over brimmed heart with clemencies

Father grew jealous of his poise and nature

He always thought for persistent torture

So he planned him to do away

To secure the might he could sway

Fire was lit Holika on heap of wood

Prahlada in her lap began to brood

God saved Holika with gay and mirth

For it had a new leash Prahlada got rebirth

Holi represents colours

In it communal harmony takes refuge

Bushan Malmohi

Eternal Sadness

What's this eternal sadness,

that never ends?

Winters turn to summers,

but the warmth never comes.

Reminiscence of past,

never finds amends.

Sun sets, night falls,

yet the dawn never comes.

Is it a yearning for the olden days?

Or a past resentment that softly stays?

Is it the autumn maple's last frays?

Or robin pining for a spring that

forever stays?

Was the past real,

or just a dreamy haze?

Is this instant lingering,

or already a turned page?

Can youth be relived,

or caste even a distant gaze?

Is this sadness or nostalgia,

a lament for a faded age?

Alas! For man, it seems -

autumn always spurns its call.

Memories sprout, spring wanes,

yet the leaves never fall.

In death perhaps the memories would,

yield to a lasting fall.

Or indeed I never wanted,

this eternal sadness to end at all.

Priyanka Sharma

Student at IIIM Indore