Kalbaisakhi

 

After the initial euphoria

Comes the inundation –

My city, flooded

In the first Kalbaisakhi storm itself –

Buses and taxis

Plough through the waters

While people wade

Through knee deep waters

Precious Sreeleather

In their hands

 

I watch

From the topmost floor

Of my Kasba Apartment –

Schadenfreude,

Or guilt of inactivity

Separated by a very thin line

For now, I gulp

Cool mouthfuls of moist clean air;

It will turn moist

And hot very soon

 

What a tender balance,

I wonder

The nor’wester brings relief

And yet there is pain,

As if the floodgates of joy

Allow only a trickle;

‘Don’t get carried away,’

My city whispers

‘Let this much

Be enough’

 

Far away,

I notice street urchins

Half-naked

Splashing

In the waterlogged streets;

The ones who have little

Also have less to lose –

The floodgates have been smashed

The balance doesn’t matter

The city smiles

 

I notice lightning

The storm is not yet over

But I look at the children

For some,

The storm never started;

A child in an opposite balcony

Drops paper boats

In vain

But he keeps making boats

While his milk gets cold…

7th August, 2026