festival is over
rich menus and richer were the eaters
i am sure that some were the beaters
of the drum
outside
telling whole world about what we did not know
that taste is not the tether
and we should really bother
about life
and its lost meanings
who knows
when will we have
the next round of festival
when spring will surmise
and the summer will surprise
winter will wait
as if
the monsoon has found a mate
in the clouds of twinkling smiles
over the high tide
let me hope,
we will find
the essence of taste
in the aroma of breaths
that are and will remain
reminders of the recluse