Maize and the monsoon

 

One bite of smoky, roasted corn

A drop of lemon, a pinch of salt

The smell of burnt evenings

Ah! A flood of memories

 

Nor Vishnu, nor Krishna –

I cannot contain the cosmos within 

My mouth; yet, an infinite world

Swirls for that second of taste

 

When you and I would seek -

After all the waterfalls chased

All the hills embraced  –

A stick of corn to celebrate the clouds

 

The dripping wetness of the Ghats

The endless staircases of the forts

Swirling mists, horizon’s clouds

All contained in those cobs of time

 

There was a time we sought

Maize in the monsoon –

The whole universe, as if reversed now

Turns back, a big crunch

 

Now here, in dried up skies

I seek, Monsoon in the maize -

And that sweet taste of corn containing

All the clouds that never rained…

 

6^th Feb’ 2026