Ode to Monsoons

The clouds fill the azure sky till all

I see is darkness up high.  For the messenger

of hope that comes every year, I wait for you with

hopeful fear.

Hurl your thunderbolts towards the earth

O, Indra! Quench the thirst of land, fill the fields of green

to reap with my own hand. I see the peacock in all it’s splendour

and watch the beasts in ardour.

Despite the huge disruptions it brings about in my daily life, coming of monsoons brings excitement of an unknown quality. It is a giver of life, a wizard that almost magically induces the plans to germinate from the earth and fishes to appear in the puddles. Indeed it is what  defines the boundaries of India as we know it. It is interesting that very few places in the world have such a thing.

The presence Himalayas has played and still play a fundamental role in bringing the phenomenon we call monsoons. Perhaps the most important gift given to India.


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