Black prism

Shivangee Dasgupta

I peeped through the window trying to figure out what was happening. I could feel a smile cross my face as I heard the cheers and laughter of people enjoying. “Happy Holi, Stutee,” said Sneha, gently caressing my hair. “Isn’t it your favourite festival?” she asked. I nodded and hugged her with joy. “Then why aren’t you ready yet?” she asked, may be with a confused look. I was trying to get ready but dropped my kajal somewhere. Sneha found the kajal near my foot and got me ready.

Sneha asked me to hold her shades, till she got ready. Even amidst the loud sound I could hear the Koel singing songs of Holi. Mom was busy cleaning the soot, which the diya had left after burning the whole night. Ahh..! I can only picture how beautiful that might be. Dad was busy frying puris in the kadai and serving the guests. Sneha and I reached the hall where the fun was taking place. Oh God! I had to walk extra carefully here, as the walls around were filled with charcoal drawings on it. I arched my eyebrows and rolled my eyes nervously at every direction, trying to figure out things around. I was sitting in the corner and savouring my Thumps Up while, the smell of abeer flew hand in hand with the Spring-filled air. I so wished I could play Holi…….

There were colours everywhere, making the darkest shadows run. The day had ended and evening was already knocking at the door. I had always loved Holi. Imagined colours coming down from the rainbow that I had in my mind.

Blindness was the only colour I had known and yet colours had the power to brighten my world. I started twirling my hair and decided to hear the Koel still singing.

Photo taken at Sindagi, Karnataka PC. Shivangee Dasgupta