Basant

I just overheard someone repeat,

‘Basant is here.’

Do I see any sign of Spring?

Flowers are yet to bloom,

The lush-green mustard fields are not topped, with yellow colour,

I do not hear the buzz of the bees,

Bhangra dhols are silent,

Birds are silent

The preparations for the Saraswati Pooja

Have not commenced and

Romance is not in the air.

The advent of Spring season heralds the harvesting of crops,

And its beginning is celebrated with songs and music,

And many happy hours spent swaying on the swings,

Laughter can be heard, resounding from each leaf and flower.

Where are the people who each year welcomed Spring

The latest pandemic must have killed them,

The rest who survived mention Spring in whispers only,

And conceal its every sign;

But the yellow colour cannot hide from view for very long.