Reach the avenue
where the celebration
is at its heights.
The long winding
lane terraced by
a colourful shamiana.
Announcements restrict
the entry, directing
to go in queues,
as if in a holy place,
a too much of vanity
an expression of an upstart,
Regretting the way
I have to negotiate,
I keep silent,
It is no more joy
to stay, stifling
at all corners.
Helpless, I sit
for a few hours,
watching the events.
Appears garish
and gaudy with no
sense of grace,
Meenas Poems 