Clouds in the valley...

  ‘Do you remember the Arabian breeze?’ I was asked upon a cup of tea, And faraway, the flood-gates broke With city-lights, rain and memory   Noisy, dusty, tarps of blue - It started all in a summer of pain I was choked until redemption came, Friends at first, then clouds of rain   Little by little, thawed the ice - Light streamed in, in every scar, The city mirrored, it had much to show These footsteps took me near and far   Sunset lakes, and forts of lore, Labyrinthine life that buzz by the sea, Buddhist caves, temples of gold A Dargah, synagogue, monastery   But the best of them - a ring, an arc A smile as if, on the city’s face And when dusk died, the gold would light At one far end, a lost ‘Necklace’ How many sunsets will I count, How many days of rain in grey, Countless dreams, bookended ‘tween - Gothic gargoyles and a grand Gateway   Art-deco, Victorian stones, Horse drawn cabs from the time...

  An unforgiving summer’s Lothal it was – Arid, hot, furnace dry, Packed in a car, a nondescript way, My friends began to wonder why   ‘What is there in Lothal?’ one asked The driver, trapped for a day’s wage Sighed, ‘Bachhanji’s promotion,’ - Souls trapped in tourism’s cage   Kach’s Mohenjo-daro , An invisible history, a Harappan star, Yet, there was nothing perhaps, For the Rann’s emptiness had spread this far   There was nothing indeed – Save a dried channel that was once a dock Long when the sea used to kiss this port, And boats from Arabia, here would flock   And a small museum with paltry things, More a shade from the sunburnt feel - Within lay shards, broken times And one replica of a unicorn seal It took me beyond the history books Where I had seen the seal, years before, And I wondered who could have crafted this? What had he seen? Was it all a lore?   A passage through time, yes it was, A...

There should be a word to express, The rain that clings to a bloom , A drop of freshness left behind Beyond the lingering cloudy gloom   Caressing as if the silken hues, A kiss that came from the sky, Pastel shades, and drops of grey In serendipity makes a tie     But what if there is but a hidden pain, A teardrop on the face? For moments few, ethereal joy For what should have lasted days   An unspoken love, ‘tween earth and sky A love that found no way - Settles as tears on a petalled veil In a song for a cloudy day…    20 th Feb’2022 Inspired by a walk – after the rains - in the Gardens of Many Nations, Fagan Park

  In these wet, summer Saturdays With nowhere much to go, The rain flows back to the yesterdays, Rich, misty, slow   To the wettest lands we’d ever see, To the Garo, Khasi hills, A younger world, when young were we - Rain-washed, emerald stills   A little boy, in rubbery shoes, A rain coat always close, For the clouds were not for us to choose, And thus, to school he goes   Labaan bazaar is left behind, (Is that toy-shop there today?) Up and down the tracks, they wind While the boy sprints on his way   He stops always, on a bridge of wood, Always, that is the rule, The stream beneath, in an angry mood, While not far is his school   Tiny wee, in gold sunlight, It stands beneath the vale, Boy, brook and a sky un-bright Just like a Ruskin tale   In little eyes, the world was new And there was much to know, Of nimbus, hail and morning dew, And how the seasons flow   Back at home, pl...