Holi Festival of Colors: Part 2

In 2009, I began to write poetry on the history, culture and heritage, and arts on India.  I meant it to be a comprehensive accounting and multiple volume set, that I titled Outsider Eyes, Insider Soul.  After all, I was Filipino-American, and I was writing about a country I had never visited.  I was, however, among a thriving Indian community in Dubai, and made friends with a good many I met.

I was duly enthralled.

Here is one poem in the collection:

(image credit)

His level best, Hiranyakashipu

          Did all he could to kill his errant son.

The father grew as arrogant, as true

          His son stayed, to a work that’s never done,

Devoted as he was to Lord Vishnu –

          What demons come, he never needs to run.

         

So give him poison, Prahlad takes it all

          And finds it turned to nectar on the vine.

Let elephants stampede and let them fall

          To crush him flat as planes of line,

And he remains as true as he is tall.

          Let hungry snakes approach, he shall be fine. 

One final try, the king of demons thought –

          Enlisted Holika to do his deed.

But not surprisingly, Lord Vishnu fought

          For Prahlad, saving him in time of need

With a stiff burst of wind that quickly brought

          Her shawl to him so fire could not proceed. 

Holi Festival of Colors: Part 2 © Ron Villejo