With such force sometimes.
That one wonders how it happens.
Just dark skies up above and humidity huge
And nothing else. Then, suddenly, a deluge!
My! Avoiding it, I move over,
In my own verandah savoring my tea.
Heavy, and heavier, the downpour roars loud and clear.
Punctuated with the loud screeching brakes
And honking of cars, running helter-skelter.
My hair gets wet and ink gets smudged,
As I continue to write my thoughts, under my roof and shelter.
I have written on the rain in Kolkata often.
It never stops to amaze me – the fury, the strength.
The wetness, the cool breeze, and
Pools of water gathering on my second floor verandah.
Spikes of forceful rain bathe my chair which stands,
Now, alone, facing the volley, as I take cover.
In front, leaves of gulmohar tree wave to and fro
With the weight and the thrust of heavenly water,
Either with glee, smiling, or as if complaining
In awe of the might of the monsoon that comes annually.
Then, as if appeased, the deluge halts ever so slightly
And makes its way back into the clouds
Ending with a soft calm drizzle,
Until the next time, may be tonight or tomorrow.
When it decides to showcase its power and its sizzle!