Peculiar Holi Crowds Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Peculiar Holi crowds,
We mean revellers,
Paglus, paglets,
Tin drum beaters, hoarse singers and freckled dancers,
All in pyaar ke rang mei,
Holi ke sang,
Saying Holi hai,
Holi hai, bhaiyya,
The old and the new guys,
We mean the folks
Hurling dust
So playful and sportive
Doing themazak,
The mazak of Holi,
Nature is changing
And we too with
Marking the gusto of the winds,
The flame of the forest with lovely blooms
Sprouting with a fine foliage of red buds and glistening leaves.

A motley,
A motley of strange crowds,
Peculiar gathering
On the street, by the roadside,
At the town square,
Marking who comes from where,
Who has what,
Some black-faced, dust-stained,
Some ash-smeared, coal-tar dust smeared,
Some looking rosy, some red,
Some yellow, some green,
Some going with the torn pants,
Some with ttorn shirts,
Oh, strange people,
A motley of strange crowds!