Much before the sun rose in the east,
Heat oozed out from every pore of earth.
The wind sizzled.
The trees sighed and drooped their leaves.
The village streets came to life
And as the day progressed, wore a dreary look.
The heat stalked everything and every place,
Almost like death.
Sweating on a sagging chair,
Shuffling around stacks of files and swatting flies,
A clerk looks at his colleague dozing in his chair
and grumbles,
“ The ceiling fan moves like the Government:
More clamor than action.
The Air cooler sits in a corner,
battered like the Opposition.”
The older man nods his head,
Indifferent to the lyrical plaint.
The younger man wonders.
…Is his friend daydreaming?
(Ludicrous in this heat)
(“ The Lord knoweth, and giveth us our just desserts”
A soft, fluffy ice cream sundae
Topped with chocolate, nuts and honey
Slithers through the senses
The mind exults and,
retreats to Epicurean heavens.)
The younger man smiles.
…Is his attitude, a product of lassitude?
(A juicy Alphonso is sucked bone-dry
satiating the Goddess of hunger
A belch completes the ritual.
The goddess is contented.
She sprinkles holy water and says,
“ My son! I bless you with
siesta, the balm of forgetfulness.”)
The younger man chuckles.
…Or is this indifference, wisdom fine-tuned by experience?
(“A wise man suffers in silence
the vagaries of nature, fellow man and God,
when he’s powerless to counter them”
The older man preaches from a chariot
from a place vaguely reminiscent of Kurukshetra.
His voice booms from nowhere,
“All things including reverie are transient.”)
The heat gathers momentum
like a fireball rolling down from heaven.
The clerk walks up to the clay pot
And gulps down a glass of water.
Splash! Splash!
Buffaloes lie in a cool pool, half-submerged.
Silent, meditative,
Like a congregation of monks.
The prop roots hang down
With dark, lean appendages called urchins
That swing, shout in glee,
Jump on buffalo backs
(Dispersed like islands in a sea)
and, dive from slow-moving springboards.
Splash! Splash!
Nostalgia lunges into the mind like heat
and un-spools.
Author notes
Much of this poem happens in the mind of a young clerk.
Inspired by summer (It’s pretty hot here now with temperatures in some parts of India touching 45 Centigrade (113 F) and still rising: We are in the middle of Summer, Monsoon is at least three weeks away).
A majority of houses and offices in India are not air-conditioned.
Buffaloes beat heat by lying submerged in pools of water. The sight of urchins riding buffaloes etc is common in countryside.
Written May 15th, 2005
What did you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Holy cow, that was brilliant. I love the monkish buffalos and the swinging urchins. You have such a wonderful vision that you look through. (And to think I complained about 97 degrees in Austin.) I love the man's description of government. I just can't tell you how marvelous a poem it is.
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Hi, again a write of great class, you take the reader there, your images are wonderful, great flow and feel, you are a writer of class and if ever you have a book out I would like a signed copy, beautful my friend, Di
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Phew, I had can hear that ceiling fan creak and feel the wave of heat coming off your words.
Well done! -
I am smiling sitting here, Krishna I cant even begin to tell you of the journeys this poem has taken me on, but I think you'll know, pardon me for short comments my left shoulder and elbow hurt unbearably.
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imagination in abundance
Hi That was wonderful full of imagery making me MISS INDIA MORE!!!!!!!!!!waaahYes i am in pakistan n want to be back there 1 That was great!!!!just like a movie -
That is an amazing poem very vivid and the descriptions were hazey just as if I was in the middle of the heat myself.
You did not even have to explain that it was in the clerks head.
Extremely well done. -
haha, good poem, very inspirational.... Though I do have one question. Since when does wind sizzle??
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The trees sighed and drooped their leaves.
The village streets came to life
And as the day progressed, wore a dreary look.
The heat stalked everything and every place,
Almost like death.
wow! neat,crystal clear imagery
n a wonderful choice of words!!! truly a remarkable piece......n a very beautiful one too.
hope to read more such delightful pieces of yours.....till then,happy writing
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(A juicy Alphonso is sucked bone-dry
satiating the Goddess of hunger
A belch completes the ritual.
The goddess is contented.
She sprinkles holy water and says,
“ My son! I bless you with
siesta, the balm of forgetfulness.”)
You made me remember the mangoes in india!!! damn i want to back there...
Beautiful write..Well done.
Regds,
Pisces. -
Masterpiece
I must say that I had to stop reading this and just take a look at the verses. This is very powerful and I agree a true masterpiece of a write. I am really in awe of this. -
Krishna this is another masterpiece from you... I do recall the summer of Delhi... one can't step barefeet on veranda or drink water out of a tap... in high temperatures one feels lethargic and listless... after all this when the monsoons arrives... that brings smile on frown faces... I thoroughly enjoyed this as well…
mina
Edited on May 16, 11:04 because 'typo'. -
Much before the sun rose in the east,
Heat oozed out from every pore of earth.
The wind sizzled.
The trees sighed and drooped their leaves.
The village streets came to life
And as the day progressed, wore a dreary look.
The heat stalked everything and every place,
Almost like death.
wow
wow
wow
wow
wow
wow
wow
wow
wow
i think i am in LOVE with those words
crazy
you are an amazing writer
wOOt
YAYAAYAYAYAYAYAYA
well done
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