Ah, the rains, again
Then the clouds,
Peppered and coal black,
Gathered from no where
To create a ruckus like hell,
Like the school children
Of the lower classes do,
Moments before tolls
Their school’s last bell,
Pattering and drumming and sliding down
At my window panes,
with alacrity
Ah, the monsoon had arrived finally
For which we waited
With a parched hope,
Scuffling with summer’s greed and crass
Which continued to flagrantly harass.
Now the sudden down pour
Metamorphosed all mankind into children
Ready to plunge in shallow pools
And glide down
The slippery slides for free
Into the realms of the old
When to write a flawless essay
On the naughty rains was like gold.
The school uniform of white and khaki
Mattered not,
The slush was heavenly,
Where one could get mad in mud
Before coming home sneezing, red-faced,
Straight into the lap of the exasperated mothers,
Waiting in anger and love
And shouting in sham:
“You fools, you want to get sick”
“Have you seen your soiled uniforms?”
“Let your father come back from work,
You will have it!
Quickly get in and have a hot cuppa,
And sleep, you unkempt, incorrigible idiot”,
she would withdraw, cooling down, flushed cheeked, blabbering:
“These rains are just like that, my boy,
Like postcards, delivered by the postman
Thrice a day on some days,
And none at all for many a week,
“Now climb into the bed and sleep.
Make sure you are cozy Under that thick sheet,
Your grandma gave you last time,
With sky- blue stripes
And yellow flowers,
Yes, yes, that yonder.”
