I first saw them heading north
White edges raised to the grey
Skies, blue under-bellies turned
Away from the black waters,
Jagged ripples of ice. The mountains
Streaked brown now, slowly stripped
Of snow. I know
Now, excruciatingly, how
That doomed knight saw
The gleaming hilt, dazzled
By every tilt
Of the jewelled Blade. Bow
Under the weight of frozen fate.
The arm clothed in white samite
Brandishes the new year
Even here, where no colour clangs
Holi, holy no less, on thawing banks.
White edges raised to the grey
Skies, blue under-bellies turned
Away from the black waters,
Jagged ripples of ice. The mountains
Streaked brown now, slowly stripped
Of snow. I know
Now, excruciatingly, how
That doomed knight saw
The gleaming hilt, dazzled
By every tilt
Of the jewelled Blade. Bow
Under the weight of frozen fate.
The arm clothed in white samite
Brandishes the new year
Even here, where no colour clangs
Holi, holy no less, on thawing banks.
(Holi marks the Hindu New Year)
Giti Chandra 