The Monsoons Offspring

I do have memories....

I sure do, I have destroyed them, rebuilt them,

And destroyed them again.....

Yet the phoenix rises from my heart to sing its beautiful

Song on a rainy day of monsoon......

The rhythm of the rain had sung its lullaby,

For me, as I was born in monsoon....

I never heard my mother’s voice

Her body was ice cold but her blood was

warm on me when I was born....

It were the new born touch me not of monsoon,

That taught me the fragility of nature....

Innocence , which left me in years

of living in the hell called world,

was so tender as of those touch me not.....

It was the smell of arrival of monsoon

That had made me tell her.....

“ Yes, It is true ”....

The evening that was drawn in grey made us cry...

We walked in the rain so nobody saw our tears...

The sky had turned creamy black

And the birds were heading back....

It was that moment I remembered ,

I too needed to head back. Monsoon was coming.

My attic will leak, fungi green will eat up my wall.....

Wasps were flying from the damp ground,

Circling the yellow light bulb under which,

My father was laid still and erect......

I understood that, monsoon had took his life to

Give some others a new one....

I have memories....

I sure do, I destroyed them, rebuilt them,

And destroyed them again.....

For the phoenix to rise from my heart to sing its beautiful

Song on a rainy day of monsoon......

From the window of my death bed I can see

heavy rain falling into the brown river....

and down the memory lane, everything,

I had felt and every thing I was, It was because of monsoon....

And now, I would like to name me as Monsoon’s Offspring.

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