Niva’s Return: A Homestay Dream in Hajo Niva stood by the window of her modest home in suburban Chicago, her eyes tracing the gray, steel skyline beyond. The air was

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

The first drop was almost a whisper, a tentative kiss on the parched earth. Then another and another till the grey dark clouds growled and started to pour ferociously. Mili

The dark, misty curtains are drawn, The wind whistles a soothing song, The wet grass sways to the rhythm, in trance As the stage is set for the peacock’s dance.

Rain drops splash around They touch the earth looking like Fairy’s Ballet twirls.

Monsoon colors/ True colors Kindly Up in the sky, Look at the expanse of blue, With the coming monsoon, Rainbows resurface—diverse In hue, Clouds of shifting shades ride The breeze,