This Night is Theirs

G. Soma Seshu

With eyes wide - open as if to drink
The delight of festive night - they linger
In tattered clothes, their shiny teeth whitened
Amidst the brilliant glow of bursting crackers.
And many - lined winking candles on walls:
They watch the pageant of multi - coloured joys
Denied to them - without a pinch of jealousy;
The shooting crackers fly into the sky
Like dragons spouting red f1owers of fire
A jet of light from flower - pots regales
Their hearts as they hurrah and dance
To gaze at the ring of whirling fire:
The loud report of bursting bombs rebounds
From their zest - filled accolades of delight:
One moment they do seem like rulers of the world
Unmindful of their trouble - torn existence:
Their scanning eyes alight on half - burnt squibs.
Torn bits of wrappers, and coloured cones full-spent;
They grab them with an enthusiastic pull;
These children of dark wander away from huts
Their dark dungeons tucked in some remote slum;
The festive mirth exudes from every pore
Of their lean gaunt limbs and dirty hair dishevelled:
This night is theirs: their burning bellies stuffed
With doles dropped by people in charity;
Tomorrow they have to return to dreary work
Uncertain of their daily bread, to feel
The bite of grinding poverty, to sweat
Amidst the dust - ridden squalid surroundings.