It arrives like clockwork
To my Kerala first
One day the skies are clear
Heartbreakingly blue
The next day an even grey
Like the doves under the eaves.
It then spreads
To the rest of my country
Bringing the much-needed aqua
To sun-parched and cracked earth.
Soothing like a balm
A benediction, a boon
Means the gods are not irate.
All look upward for a fleece
Of the alto cumulo nimbus
Pregnant with implied water
Expectant, hopeful, optimistic.
It is as if the heavens are open
A dam has burst
Raindrops like hailstones
Hammering the earth
Creating holes
On your flimsy Korean umbrellas.
It is placid, pacific
No thunder no lightning
No storms or cyclones
Just the music of the patter
That falls on a tiled roof.
It brings to life vegetation
To farmers aplenty
And to all of us prosperity.
Kerala has only two seasons:
Dry land, under humid air
The spring and the summer,
Comprise the dry period.
While the Autumn and Winter
Our unique Monsoon.
Sometimes it doesn’t occur
The skies remain an electric blue
The verdure looking like
Last year’s hay.
Then the benediction a curse
The plenty a paucity.
I thank Mother Nature
For the process unique
This wonder phenomenon.
I walk in the rain
My favourite season
As a grateful compliment
To the welcome visitor annual
The essential Monsoon.
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