A month of rains,
Good luck goes calling,
I see homes filled
With sweetmeats roasting.
A month of leaves,
The Gods go calling,
I see the air filled
With stars falling.
The elves go calling,
I see the roads filled
With festive feet pattering.
I feel the rains,
I feel the leaves,
I feel the snow,
Yet you do not see.
The hunger in my stomach,
The darkness in my hovel,
The silence in my heart,
Ridiculed by your merry.
In India, the month of Shravan, also known as Saavan-maas, heralds the beginning of festivities. The month of rain, followed by the autumn and then winter, is a period of near-continuous festivities. India is home to many religions, all of whom celebrate festivals during this period. But there are thousands of poor for whom these celebrations are a distant dream.
Next time the festive season is around the corner, share your happiness; spare a thought for the hunger-stricken eyes that you see?
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