Diwali That Was… Poem by Anuraag Sharma

That is the mohalla
favourite down the memory lane
he loved to roam around and stop at each shop
of crackers.
And I love to see him roam around and stop at each shop
of crackers.
A crippled tenner - you'd
somehow saved - didn't pay the bills
of a medical store; a canvas bag
filled with to-be-half-fulfilled hopes of a child
sitting on the frame of your 'Robinhood'
and the hacking cough of someone
clutching you from the back, the
crimson clots of blood down your spine
wetting the ragged baniyan
and you cycling on
me sitting on ….. down
the memory lane.

That 'Havai', - hardly a touch
of match-slick and up
did it fly
into the indifference of a sky
tearing the envelope of an enveloping
darkness -
'Papa! ' did I not cry?
Those 'anaars' - sparks
sprinkled - stains of blood
on the pillow of …. The whole darkness
night bellowed; those 'phooljharis'
testing the patience
relevant to burn but
when burnt would grin away
the day long drudgery -I Could not
go to school for so long!

You purchased them all
for a crippled tenner - the
bottom end of a candle called
salary, kept another burning
weeping the hot wax within.

Winter has wept icicles
down the gray lashes of varandahs-
tears of warmth all gone.
Where are you, Papa?
Your anybody's my everybody papa!