The monsoons were here
and the clouds were forming
The clouds formed and
the sky darkened
Now from the pleasant
blue to the ugly ochre,
From the brownish hue
to the greyish shade
And the earth had descended
into darkness,
Within a few honking of
car horns and changing of traffic lights.
The cumulonimbus – the
sheared off wool from some pathetically naked sheep
The sudden dash of
light through the sky- hope in a dark village
The thunderclap- the
sound of a thousand chariots rushing to war
And the water cycle
completes as all the ingredients are added
And all is calm once
again . . . . . .
But not for long
The widow watches
helpless and wet
The sindoor is now nothing but a puddle of
lead oxide at her feet
The very skin which he
had touched is washed clean of the love and lust
Her tears lost in the
tears from heaven
The boy watches
helpless and wet
The celebrations of the
opponents
His knees digging into
the muddy field as did the palms of his hands
His dilapidated body
visible through his soaked jersey
The man watches
helpless and wet
A single red rose lying
face down in the muddy water at his feet
The love of his life
walking away, turned away forever
A single diamond ring
falls from his hand and disappears with what had been his life
The soldier watches
helpless and wet
His comrade breathing
his last in front of him
The drops fall fast and
thick from his eyes and the Lord’s
But the phoenix doesn’t
cry on his wound
The girl watches
helpless and wet
As the carnivorous men
approach her body
She knows what’s about
to happen
But the men don’t see
her masked tears
The shopaholic watches
helpless and wet
Her day’s hard work now
sprinkled with mud courtesy the blindly rushing traffic
She thinks of screaming
her lungs out
But her thoughts drown
in the pitter patter of the rain
The beggar watches
helpless and wet
His hard bed for the
night now enhanced to a large muddy puddle
The incessant downpour
only broken by the incessant feet splashing their way through his bed
He has no more tears to
shed, no more looks to the skies
All of them watch on
helpless and wet
But the toddler fights
out of her mother’s grasp and out from under the umbrella
Wet and helpless
Helping herself to the
magic that had descended torrentially
Her mirthful laugh
haunts them all
The same rain falls on
them all
Washing away the past.
The pains.
The rejections.
The losses.
The betrayal.
Uniting the haves and
the have-nots.
Ushering in the future .
Playful and smiling . .
. . . .
