Festival Of Lights? (Diwali 1984) Poem by Kenneth Bell

Festival Of Lights? (Diwali 1984)



FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS?
(Diwali 1984)

The asphalt, though a mere ribbon,
Was a black, yawning chasm
Cleaving their starkly different existence.

To the right were brightly-lit houses
Whence the sounds of gay laughter,
Festive music and merriment emanated.

There, small earthen oil-lamps glowed steadily,
Tiny, colourful electric lights flickered
Like a thousand fire-flies,
While fireworks dazzled the night-sky,
Hissed, chattered and boomed.

Thence, mouth-watering savours wafted,
Dancing on the soft night-air.
Men, women and children,
Arrayed in all their festive finery,
Were in light and mirthful mood.

But, to the left, a mere stone's throw,
Another stark, reality, like pin-pricks,
Could hardly be ignored.

There, there were no homes worth the name.
No laughter swelled the breasts,
Or lit the weary eyes of their denizens
Huddled together for warmth.

Their stygian hovels,
Drenched in vilest stench,
Were as silent as sepulchres.
Their day had died with the sinking glow.

The sound of merriment and celebration,
Accompanied by psychedelic lights, spicy aromas,
From the hearths across the somber street,
Failed to penetrate the papery walls of their shabby shacks,
Or even their painfully deep and dreamless sleep.

Their day was as laborious as their forbears':
Forever dawning with a hint of hope,
And ending in a surge of routine resignation!

Kenneth M. Bell,
Surat, India.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success