I watched as ‘Summer’
fell with the
Glamourous April
Kolkata rains last evening.
Beaded with the
wind
The rains
lashed the lanes…washed, cleansed
The sweat and
dust of the city of joy.
The first drop fell
giving way to
Thousand
splinters quaking
The sanity of
earth; a few
petals trembled
on the Gulmohar tree
And shed as a
requiem….;
Without understanding,
A frenzy bunch
of Red-beaked parrots
Raised a babel;
and settled on the tree-
still lush with some ably strong red blooms…
What a grandly
embroidered landscape it was!
After the rains
stopped,
I skipped down
the stairs to the garden,
ran up to the
tree
Sat under it …
A pleasant night was
spreading vast over the cooler Kolkata.
Summer is not a
myth, nor are the nor’westers--
the wayward, irresponsible thunder-showers.
They come every
year to convey mortality.
How strange is death!
Sometimes there
is not much to write by way of a 'poem' but a recurrent thing/theme/object also
wouldn't allow one to find peace until one gets it out of one's mind. Come
summers, and as its time for the Gulmohar flowering, no matter where I am, a
surfeit of 'Krishnachura' memories start playing in my head.
** Gulmohar tree- Flame tree.
Written for Sumana.
https://poetryblogroll.blogspot.in/2018/04/poets-united-midweek-motif-summer.html
https://poetryblogroll.blogspot.in/2018/04/poets-united-midweek-motif-summer.html
Does the death of these flames happen every year? How marvelous this poem, and the refreshment of rain "Beaded with the wind."
ReplyDeleteThis whole poem is drenched in rain, and I find it refreshing, just as the streets of Kolkata are (I'm sure) after a downpour.
ReplyDelete"The sweat and dust of the city and joy" really speaks to me. I love the trembling of the blooms on the Gulmohar tree. Beautiful imagery. My grandma and I used to lovbe the thunderstorms on summer afternoons. The way the ground smelled just before the first rains fell.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem, the frenzy bunch of red-beaked parrots.
ReplyDeleteNice to read
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful poem with an earthy honest feel about it with its observer seeing all around them; the rain, the earth, the tree, the birds and the poet herself in the midst of life itself.
ReplyDeleteI loved your poetic description of the storm and its aftermath. You took me there!
ReplyDeleteI am a Kolkatan by heart having spent the best part of my life in the city.The beautiful poem brought back fond memories during this part of the year.
ReplyDelete