DELHI: SANJANA HATTOTUWA
I have passed through,
Drunk the lees of Lutyen,
Savoured, the prismatic colouring of a
The checkered footfalls, beneath moonlit trees,
Tempered on occasion, by a strain of
Progeny of a plastered Gandhi
Benignly denominated soiled hues of green.
Dodging the garland smoke, the spaghetti of light and
Seduce erect poles.
Visions of modesty, jostle with drooling eyes,
Both wet in a repressed heat.
Your opacity eludes me I pass
Punctured by your sulphuric rejection
Of all warmness. Reflections of green puddles,
Silhouettes of vanity shrapnel of a splintered Om.
I have known but little,
Bare navals and crass emotion,
The deep serenity of a late-winter serein,
Destitute words, clamouring to voice
Virtues of a stainless, steel prashad.
I have tasted sweet this ancestral land,
This city, now wrenched away
As I sip the last of these coloured days,
Of a solitary Holi.