When Rains Came

Bangalore Urban

It was curtains for the election campaign.

Dust settled. Rains came.

For a change as predicted.

Patched earth was showered with kisses.

Trees danced.

Urchins on the street frolicked in the puddle.

Hot pakora made in some kitchen.

Roads got clogged.

Traffic snarled.

Motorists cursed.

Tempers flew.

Ambulance in desperation, no way to go.

The patient declared dead on arrival.

A kid electrocuted.

One swallowed by the open manhole.

A boundary wall collapsed here and there.

Cars floated in the basements.

Residents inflated their boats for local commute.

Olas, Ubers and local autos surged their tariffs.

Bludgeoning city, turned shitty, what a pity?!

So, when rains came, some celebrated, some moaned.

Bangalore, Rural

For the farmers

The wait was over at last.

The rains came furious and fast.

Fissures in the soil, with water, brimming.

Wrinkled faces full of frowns, now smiling.

Seeds are sown. Turn into food when grown

In the field plenty of things to do

Finally, the yield, plentiful harvest, that would do.

Countryside painted with shades of green

Eyes transfixed in the beauty of the scene.

Simple lives but not easy to lead

Paths of uncertainty nevertheless they tread.

For the young boys too, the wait was over

The village ponds now with water brimmed over

Ready pools, the boys get into, for some action.

Wading buffaloes too grunted in satisfaction.

As the wheel of time moves

One season begets another.