Rain

The rain falls, when I can’t be wet;
It stops, when I want it to rain.
In essence, it teaches me life,
And quite a bit of what is pain.

Falls in sleets, when I wear my best,
And when I want to play, it halts;
It teaches me Nature – like me –
Can have her own foibles and faults.

The rain shows me how life works,
By not promising any goal;
I need to let go, it patters,
For life, like rain, isn’t in my control.

Monsoon

The rain is welcome. The summer is over. Heat has been defeated. I leave home with the kids and stepping out of the air-conditioned house I realise it is raining. Come back home and in a few minutes, the rain dies down, and I take an umbrella (to hold off the drops falling from the line of tamarind trees down the rain, and an occasional shit fall from the herons roosting high in the thin leaves) and ask the kids to follow me down the lane.

There is lightning far up in the clouds and the thunder calls back a second later. Xena is scared and looks around wide eyed. But she follows me as does Zach with his ambling gait. A minute later I see a scared stray, black with a splash of white on his chest, run past. He is not from the area and has obviously been scared away from his by the thunder. I call out to Xena who means to chase him, and he takes off down the street. I scold the girl, and then look up to find him but he has sprinted away.

Halfway back, the rain starts. I thank my brains for they asked me to pick up the umbrella and I trot back to the compound. Xena thinks it’s a game of catch and cook and gallops ahead with Zach on her heels. Of course, Zach is running from the rain, too, just like I do. I come back home, just as the rain begins to form a deluge. The day has been muggy and my partner predicted rain fall by night. Sure enough, here it is.

The whole night sky is filled intermittently with light and the resounding rolls of thunder as the gods fight up in the night sky. Rain falls. I hear the territorial dogs attack and I cringe. The pretty black one (I assume) yelps. I run to the window as does Zach. He owns the territory – in his head, at least. But I cannot spot the black fellow from our window. Lightning doesn’t help. Rain falls in sheets.

The city looks up to the sky, like a thirsty man opening his mouth to a cascading ripple of water. I will not think of the problems today. I will merely look outside the window as I type this, see the cracked edges of a lightning sliver slice the sky, see the black silhouettes of the trees filter the rain onto the lamp bright street and relax.

Morning is here and so are the monsoons.

Strangers Again

The words that’re whispered over three AM talks
Ignoring thunder under rainfall walks
Because you noticed a light in my eyes
Then, when self-esteem was but a word
And the world was a cesspool of lies
Which could be felt and not just heard

Then, when you took me and kissed my lips
And my heart danced in catatonic flips
Then it was that your hair gleamed in the sun
As it fell on my chest, I held it tight
I’d no hope even then that you were one
To last through the day unto the lost night

I recall not one word from yesterday
For none matter now, words aren’t meant to stay
The feel of your hair is gone with that hour
And you have found another pair of eyes
To taste, to praise, to dive in and devour
You become a ninja master of disguise.

I smile and move on to the next three AM talk
Maybe this time I’ll learn and won’t do the walk
The thunder would groan and rumble with might
I’ll notice it keen through the still warm rain
And when I pass you via a quiet night
It will be quite like we were strangers again.