Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Monsoon One and Two

Monsoon is bared with bitter teeth,

as windy shrieks torment;

the sinking day is ravaged,

the night is fully rent.

Within the howling arms,

we shudder to the floor;

close mind and eyes to sight

and pray for peaceful dawn.

The shattering of windows

with glass in vicious dance;

the timber splinters wilfully

as homes are torn apart.

In small and shivered huddling,

we know ourselves as borne

on arms of deadly wondering,

as Mother Nature yawns.

The eye is hard upon me,

the mouth spits vicious breath;

cyclone in violent birthing,

creates, destroys and rests.

And in the silent endings,

as whispered words are held,

the living drag back into life

and death rings mournful bells.

The night has fallen into day,

the storm into itself

and life returns to broken calm;

where order creeps in stealth.

NB: I wrote this after experiencing one of the worst cyclone's in Bombay's history during Monsoon season. I was protected by hiding under a bed but many living in flimsy shelters, as countless thousands do, were not so lucky and neither were the fishermen whose bodies washed up on the beach for weeks afterwards.


Rain drums shamanic, insistent, determined, deploying liquidity,

reminding, rewarding, renewing all that it meets in downward fall,

washing, rinsing, removing and sustaining life in all its forms;

as if, the heavens had drunk deep, only to release at season's call.


In all that sloughing, sundering, swallowing and liquid surrendering,

so do the angels watch, submissive, ordering the elements to rise,

that cycles of dry and wet may be set in harmonic, prayered emotion;

hope can speak again in drowning words, in certain beat with time.


The world does dance to rhythms worked in that which is unseen,

and monsoon cannot be held to any sure, or gauranteed account,

these daily drenchings come in ways both whimsical and flawed;

each atom does rejoice when expectations, reality can mount.

NB: I wrote this last year during Malawi's Wet Season.

P.S. I was inspired with more thoughts reading others on dverse but will not post it here as too much to read as it is.


  1. The first one with it's wonderful ballad rhythm, breathes relief when you are safe in the aftermath. The second one is so much more peaceful.. maybe we are just safe in in the safety of rain.. I'm so much more used to constant drizzle than torrential rain. But I have experienced heavy rain in the mountains.

  2. the living drag back into life
    and death rings mournful bells.

    The morning after the storm... the inevitable acceptance and hobble back to a kind of normalcy. Well said.

  3. Nice energy in this. I have lived through a few hurricanes and done relief work in the after. There is a palpable relief when it is over - and then the clean up and mourning begins.

    I like the inclusion of the angels helpless to watch as well, it adds another layer.

  4. And in the silent endings,
    as whispered words are held,
    the living drag back into life
    and death rings mournful bells.

    The storm can be quite vicious and take several lives.. such intense lines..!
    Well penned!

  5. the balance between life giving and taking in the elements is so close. it must have been terrifying to have been there. One sees movies and hears of the prayers for the rain... but when it comes it can he harsh

  6. i was never in a monsoon myself - so can only imagine how powerful the force is..

  7. I have lived through one and your words bring it back for me ~ The violence of nature is heart wrenching to watch, but come dawn, when all is peaceful, it is a wonder to behold once more ~

  8. These are both great, but I like the first one best. I like the rhythm of it, the climax of the storm and the conclusion of life returning to calm. I could feel the fear of being in the midst of the storm, not knowing if the place of safety was truly safe. I also appreciate your explanatory note at the end. So sad that there is no place of safety for many in this world. Peace, Linda

  9. i suppose if everyone is exposed to the same
    fears in life.. of Nature's power and awesome
    story of giving and taking life.. perhaps
    there will be more harmonious
    relations in the gift of love..
    when necessary for
    masses to
    together to stay alive..:)

  10. I have never been in monsoons but have experienced hurricanes and tornadoes. To my mind, the monsoon as you have written is more frightening. Good tight write and the images bring the monsoon to life.

  11. I remember one of the massive rain in Mumbai a few years back. Some of my friends were stuck at work for a few days. I think your piece has the quintessence of intensity.....

    1. Massive rains and monsoon in Bombay were and are a given and so hard for the millions living under scraps of plastic, hessian and bits of timber.

  12. What powerful descriptions of monsoons you've given us!

  13. I have experienced the fury of storms that arrive with tornado activity. The vivid imagery in the first poem had me reliving those storms. While a heavy rain is magical, the power of a furious storm can devastate as you aptly expressed. Nice write

  14. Both versions are beautifully written -- but the first version is especially good. So powerful. The ending too --- that slow, stealthy return to a sense of order. What a terrible tragedy --