On The Eastern Ghats On A Monsoon Day Poem by indira babbellapati

a benevolent sky
a silken road
uplifting green on either side
the blue-grey hills move farther away
as i move closer to them

always standing on a hill
the other hill looked more welcoming
never there a high point
nor a lower point!

hills to the right
hills to the left
hills in front
hills behind

down in the valleys
green stretches of paddy
dotted by men, women
from the virgin ghats

a soothing breeze
blowing across the hills
covers them in a huge grey cloud
carefully led here from elsewhere
the hills appear hazy
the trees dance to a merry tune

all connive to release
a comforting shower
tip tap goes the music
lo, here’s the shower
and a little distance away
no rain, the rain at its
game of hide and seek!

rain and breeze blown through
the thick foliage of
coffee and creepers of pepper
winding the sky-kissing silver oaks
the smell of rain
the aroma of air-ripples
touch my cheek

i step on to the road
to be one with the unique
blend of all the earthy perfumes

hordes of unruly cattle and goats
having had their fill
trail back homeward
their keeper struggling
to discipline them

men under large palm-leaf-umbrellas
women giggling with the showers
clouds enveloping us
clouds chasing us
i slowly but reluctantly descend
still smelling of the blended scents
still smelling of raindrops…

21jul2010
13.25hrs