The Momma Clan

I miss the Holi of my childhood…

 The group of children and the unique fun…

 Used to be eager to see how Holika burns…

 How goodness wins even after being burnt..

 Hearing the stories, I used to believe in my mind…

 Fight, quarrel or enmity used to disappear in Holi behind ..

used to go to meet everyone with Gulal and Gujiya to eat

 used to color them a lot after being escaped once more to greet,

 I remember how we used to jump with enthusiasm and joy,

used to fight so much to play colors and being coy…

 I remember how faces used to bloom with colors in Holi…

 Even those living far away used to come to meet on Holi.

 Earlier there used to be a different brightness in the streets and markets.

 Noise and happiness were also visible in the families as warmhearted.

 Now neither that childhood is there nor is it the Holi of childhood.

 Neither that environment is visible nor is it visible now a group of children as good….

 In Holi, the color is same, the gulal is same, the taste of Gujiya is also same heretofore…

 But now Holi seems faded, neither the enthusiasm remains the same as before…

 They get colored in colors but everything seems to have changed…

 Neither that love is left in the families, nor the people around same…

 Now the relation of beman is visible and the hypocrisy of the people remains….

 It is said that Holi brings with it love, enthusiasm and goodness.

 To paint in the colors of love with faith and hope to procure us…

 Now only in the vault of memories there is fun with colours ever could ….

 I miss the Holi of my childhood…

-Santvana Srivastava