HEAVIER THE BAG, SWEETER THE TREAT

All at once, in a festive market
I met the good boy my mother raised,
At the annual ceremony of Holi shopping,
Keeping tracks of our purchase.

I, the treasurer, 
At the helm of the shopper;
Mum, the inspector,
The expert bulldozer.

Lured into the chore, I knew
Crowded markets can be a rue.
Yet each year I would walk through 
And gladly so, my bit to do.

And every year at the end of our trip
My mother, her age-old promise keeps,
“The heavier the bag, the sweeter the treat
At the time of our homewards retreat”.

(To my mother, this Holi)
March 13, 17'