The marigolds with their Yellow for this festival And jasmines oozing their Whiteness. The Periwinkles with subtle Pink by the fence that's Always ignored and The roses in full bloom Dancing on the only sapling That came up well after Years of trying- The blossoms in Grandma's Garden was the beginning of New Year back then. She made Deities with Cow-dung for the occasion. Age-old tradition to pay Tribute to our ancestors. Anything that was deemed As a weapon was washed And worshiped that day. The first time she had Asked me for my book and The pen for the pooja... How I had felt like a warrior. Fresh bravery in my bones. Chased away pigs that day In the backyard by myself. I was heck of a Knight.