Marigold berries and nostalgia 

“Hailing the Hindu goddess of knowledge and wit,

In the name of Goddess Swaraswati.”

                                 ***

​Baptism with hot yellow shower,

Crisp new clothes to wear.

Bright and traditional- 

Carved with authenticity…

With jewels from the golden antique box,

Wet hair tied in a flowery knot.

Preparation of the sandalwood blessing-

A duty stapled to the neck of the littles! 

Smell of burning candles, sandalwood and ghee, 

Every little ritual placed on separate silver antiques.

Smell of incense sticks and smoke so pure

Marigolds jasmines little whites and orange flowers…

A halt in between to smell the infused air – 

A necessity on this day of every single year. 

Not mere flowers or fruits or sweet delicacies 

It is the smell of religion of early morning bliss. 

The praying fire, the ringing bell 

And hymn of the holy white shell.

The fragrance of the rituals, chanting of mantras…

And charisma of the proud Brahmin flare. 

Prayers in unison with all the spirituality within, 

Sprinkle of holiness over our head full of dreams. 

Sleepbound eyes fighting the urge to celebrate,

Bowed down ego waiting for blessings.

Patience and hope ripening at heart 

Prayers of harvest and of mind fertility. 

The taste of the yummy red and green berries with guilt,

Feather light feel of the mind in peace.

Every year I wait for this morning holiness…

To pray for the key to unknown beam. 

On this day I resurface the childhood nostalgia,

I play my part like a learnt Bengali should.

I pray the divine Goddess of Wit-

Bless me almighty, 

Harvest my mind, let my soul breathe.

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