Basant Panchami was never just a festival.
Basant Panchami was never just a festival.
It was waiting for the wind, sleepless nights, kite reels ready, and a childhood that lived on rooftops.
The cuts on fingers healed, but those mornings stayed forever.
Today the same basant breeze blows, but the rooftops feel quieter.
Some memories don’t fade — they keep flying with the wind, just like our childhood.
