When Rain Came

Back then, in the nineties,

in rural India,

monsoon was regular and strong.

We were an agrarian community,

so rains were very important,

to start paddy cultivation.

We would wait, watching the swallows

as harbingers of rain,

and then one day,

black carpets of dense clouds

would cover the sky.

The monsoon had arrived—

to linger for months,

to make the parched land

lush again,

to fill the rivers and ponds,

cattle would be plump up.

We sat leisurely on porches,

enjoying the clouds and rain,

watching birds carry twigs,

to build nests on the trees,

as we munched

crispy pakoras, puffed rice,

with ginger milk tea.

That was bliss,

now I am an immigrant,

in a faraway continent,

Things are not the same,

as we know,

life rhythm is fast,

weather erratic

but I still stand at the window,

sip my tea, and watch the rain

with great delight and passion.

Come what may, we must not lose

the connection with nature,

in it's nurturing bosom,

lies our peace and happiness.

Related articles: