A poem on Makar Sankranti– its significance and the diverse way of celebration across the many states of India

When the sun shifts north, Uttarayan begins its reign,
Capricorn receives the light, winter loosens its chain.
Sesame and jaggery speak of warmth, of bond and yield,
Harvest ripe and skies flung open, the earth's joy revealed.

In Tamil Nadu the clay pots bubble over with pride
Kolam bright at the threshold, Suryan adored far and wide. 
Pongal pongala! the cry lifts sweet and bold
Jallikattu in the dust- raw courage, ancient and old. 

In Punjab the bonfire roars under a January sky,
Reori and popcorn tossed in flames as sparks leap high.
Sundar Mundariye ho! echoes through the mustard field,
Dhol beats to feet that stomp the cold, refusing to yield.

In Gujarat the heavens bloom with a thousand hues,
Every rooftop a battlefield of maanja, taunts and cues.
Kai po che! when a rival kite spins helpless and free,
The chikki dissolves on the tongue- joyous rivalry.

In Assam the meji burns bright by the river's curve,
Bhogali feasts laid on banana leaf with generous nerve.
Til pitha, narikol laru — all neighbours fed with ease. 
In community and laughter, the Bihu spirit lives.

By the Mahanadi shore the Makar Mela draws the throng,
Tribal hearts and temple bells together hold the song.
Far north in Kashmir, Shishur Saenkraat marks the shift,
Each tongue, each ritual — a unique and equal gift.

One celestial turn, yet every land has its own hymn,
One festival wears many faces, never growing dim.
Every hearth its distinct flame, each tongue its own cheer, 
Sankranti reminds us- what makes us one is clear.