The Crooked Rangoli

With timorous hands,

I placed fragrant flowers

in their space.

The whole house bloomed

with the fresh scent of marigolds.

At the crack of dawn,

it glimmered—

in everyone’s eyes.

With the feast served,

my taste buds

sensed the aroma,

sparked with significance—

laddus bursting with sweetness,

and the love of my grandmother.

Giggles and laughter

spread through every corner.

I watched and engulfed

all my emotions,

to store them—

to be cherished forever.

My brother with a fuljhadi,

his eyes ablaze,

outshining every cracker.

Amidst the chaos,

bypassers paused to adore

the rangoli made with joy—

colors crossing lines,

mixing,

making it perfect

with imperfections.

With Diwali Poojan,

enchanting aartis and puja bells

marked spiritual growth,

a rollercoaster of emotions

Filling myself

with the warmth

that came along,

I realized—

it isn’t just a festival,

But a burning desire

To be there,

To celebrate,

To connect,

And come out stronger!