There is a whiff of freshness in the air,
The sun plays hide and seek with a flair.
The droplets create a music of their own,
As they fall on every dancing bush and stone.
The peacocks join in the monsoon’s rhapsody,
And dance to the tunes of this divine melody.
The sun draped in striking colours of spring,
Enjoys a siesta in the rainbow’s swing.
The pitter-patter takes us on a joyous flight
To savour monsoon’s splendid sound and sight.
But somewhere in the outskirts of the city,
A widow carries her only child, with pity,
Wondering whether the raging rain will spare
Them or drown them in a statistical glare.
The monsoon quenches it’s rapacious thirst
Feeding on mud soaked humans first.
The porous roof drenches them to the bone,
Their agony and distress, theirs alone.
The deprived think of their devastated hearth,
While the others celebrate the fragrance of earth.
© Jaspreet Mann