An Echo: Green Diwali, Green Diwali...
Your small green kingdom
desires a Green Diwali
but the neighbouring
'cracker loving' enthusiasts
think different.
Result:
The stimulating fresh ambience
conveyed through
dainty buds, tender leaves,
and smiling blossoms
is ruthlessly wrecked
by the eddying 'chemical filled'
pungent air currents that hang around,
gaining a chokehold
on proliferating green cells.
An air of melancholy lingers at
the sight of a pet cat,
the usually active dog,
as also the strays,
literally jumping out of their skin,
whining to get away from
the high decibel noise of crackers,
their glazed eyes betraying
deathly fear and agitation.
As they scamper away and
you peer through the haze,
the twirling 'Chakra' spinning fast
near your wary feet,
emitting threads of spluttering fire,
the ever popular 'flower pot'
rising high in fountain like fervour,
its symmetrically arranged
shower of sparks fanning out,
the rows n' rows of tiny bombs
which make you rush indoors,
your eyes shut, ears covered tight...
all speak of momentary pleasures
without an iota of thought to
an already burdened Earth.
Inside...
the sweetmeats awaiting hungry hands are kept covered to keep out
the acrid smell and smoky odours
drifting in through doors /windows.
desires a Green Diwali
but the neighbouring
'cracker loving' enthusiasts
think different.
Result:
The stimulating fresh ambience
conveyed through
dainty buds, tender leaves,
and smiling blossoms
is ruthlessly wrecked
by the eddying 'chemical filled'
pungent air currents that hang around,
gaining a chokehold
on proliferating green cells.
An air of melancholy lingers at
the sight of a pet cat,
the usually active dog,
as also the strays,
literally jumping out of their skin,
whining to get away from
the high decibel noise of crackers,
their glazed eyes betraying
deathly fear and agitation.
As they scamper away and
you peer through the haze,
the twirling 'Chakra' spinning fast
near your wary feet,
emitting threads of spluttering fire,
the ever popular 'flower pot'
rising high in fountain like fervour,
its symmetrically arranged
shower of sparks fanning out,
the rows n' rows of tiny bombs
which make you rush indoors,
your eyes shut, ears covered tight...
all speak of momentary pleasures
without an iota of thought to
an already burdened Earth.
Inside...
the sweetmeats awaiting hungry hands are kept covered to keep out
the acrid smell and smoky odours
drifting in through doors /windows.