My FB and blogger friend Shail Mohan, lives in Trivandrum, Kerala (India's Southernmost state), that gets the honor every single year of being the first to welcome the Southwest Monsoon .
This year it was a bit late. Naturally, when it actually made landfall , she was out there in her garden , clicking the reactions of the greenery. You can see the entire gamut of reactions, here.
This amazing click by Shail, besides being eminently prizeworthy, actually made me think about Someone Powerful and Omnipresent Up There.....
(Photo by Shail Mohan)
Immense and extravagant
scapularity**
and
with clavicles**
to carry the world,
He sits,
alert and observant,
holding the monsoons
in his palms
miraculously
against gravity,
as only He can....
There has been so much
sin,
killing ,
cheating
destruction,
and disrespect
in His name,
that he wonders
if they deserve
to have a good monsoon.
And then he hears
the clouds clamouring,
unable to bear the weight
of the expectations;
the man in the fields,
sitting on his haunches,
looking up,
unable to look at the drying crop,
and
so many ordinary folks
who trudge miles
to drink the water
from wells He fills up
every year.
Loud thunder,
the wind in a whoosh,
he straightens the arm
to sweep the rain
for a six,
as a lady in Trivandrum,
who's been secretly
clicking him,
rushes out
to take a happy monsoon catch.
The Monsoon, b. Him, c Shail....
:-))
** shoulder muscles
scapularity**
and
with clavicles**
to carry the world,
He sits,
alert and observant,
holding the monsoons
in his palms
miraculously
against gravity,
as only He can....
There has been so much
sin,
killing ,
cheating
destruction,
and disrespect
in His name,
that he wonders
if they deserve
to have a good monsoon.
And then he hears
the clouds clamouring,
unable to bear the weight
of the expectations;
the man in the fields,
sitting on his haunches,
looking up,
unable to look at the drying crop,
and
so many ordinary folks
who trudge miles
to drink the water
from wells He fills up
every year.
Loud thunder,
the wind in a whoosh,
he straightens the arm
to sweep the rain
for a six,
as a lady in Trivandrum,
who's been secretly
clicking him,
rushes out
to take a happy monsoon catch.
The Monsoon, b. Him, c Shail....
:-))
** shoulder muscles
Suranga, you have done it again! What imagination! :)
ReplyDeleteShail, Thank you ! And I just saw what Cracking Saks wrote; ROTFL....
DeleteWow, Suranga!!! I can feel the raindrops and I can feel the magic of monsoon sitting in the searing heat of Chennai. Shail, the pic is lovely--very very beautiful!
ReplyDeleteBhavana, Thank you ! Me too, sitting in the sticky heat of Mumbai ; some folks in Kerala have all the fun ....
DeleteThe pic is awesome and the write up is priceless
ReplyDeleteRitu, Thank you ! And the pic is super awesome and prizeworthy.
DeleteThe images of the man in the fields sitting on his haunches looking up for rains, and ordinary folks trudging miles for potable water connect the quintessential man to the Raingod, just as your poem connects a random photograph to sublimity.
ReplyDeleteUSP, Thank you ! And a deep bow, vis-a-vis such a deep comment ...
DeleteAww...awesome (and I did learn a new word - Clavicles! :-) Bravo!
ReplyDeleteAarti's Mom, thank you !
Delete...absolutely awe inspiring, Suranga:)
ReplyDeleteAmitAag, Thank you !
DeleteSuranga mam .. WOW i dont know what to say .. what can i say that will tell you this is awesome poem
ReplyDeleteBikram's