After summer solstice, br We earnestly pray for rain br In north Indian plains, br Drained after a long unforgiving summer. br Gulp down lemonade br Or a drink made of khus, almonds and melon seeds br Or juice of roasted raw mangoes, sweetened br And spiced with crushed cumin br Black salt and fresh mint leaves. br br I glance at the sky br From my balcony br Eyebrows knitted, br And sigh in dismay br As I watch clouds gather br Tease and leave. br I can smell rain in br Some far off hills, br As wind carries br Wet earth’s fragrance. br br My eyes rest on woody bougainvillea; br Vines scramble over boundary walls br And fence lines of neighbourhood villas br In colours as varied as a child’s first br Box of water paints. br br As I take a swig from br My bottle of Kinley, br Am filled with wonder, br How they remain so buoyant br All day and by night, br Despite no respite br From drought and heat. br While the Sun furiously beats br Down on earth’s cracked crust? br br But mother nurtures the roots, br Who knows how she replenishes itself…? br The thorny vine knows not sloth, br And withstands the fiery wrath br And burst forth in blossoms, br Full of spirit br Just enjoying being. br br Oft I wonder, some flowers br Are fragrant, others a’int. br See what a plethora br Of colour, size and aura! br How amazing, they parlance br In complete silence. br Captivated, I just forgot br I was feeling hot. br br br .