False flowers

They were called false
The yellow shuttlecock-like
Pumpkin flowers
That would not yield fruit
They were sought after
By pubescent girls on austerities
Praying for a mate after their heart
During the misty-eyed Margazhi;
The flowers turned up
Planted in cowdung
At the centre
Of elaborate kolams
Drawn with fingers
Shaking in the cold air
I think of my friends
Who fasted with me
With fond hope
And false flowers.