(`'•.¸ w--e--ll.-.-.-.c--o--m--e ¸.•'´)

Gushes of wind skewed the weather-cock,

Grey clouds break into a harmless chuckle …”Oh poor thing…”

Pitter Patter the rains fall,

A welcome song to have a ball,

The earth shies away like a demure damsel,

Drops of rain nest on me,

Calms soothes and caresses me,

With sensuous innocence all over

Two strange pair of eyes meet,

With a rain song rhythm to match the beat,

Of distances that seem like endless mile,

Transpire into a seamless smile,

Down the pavement I walk down further,

To an insane corner nestling a tea stall,

People sitting on moist wooden benches,

Around tables carelessly arranged,

Chafing moistened cold palms around hot steaming tea,

The warmth protective and secure,

A lingering aroma of frying pakoras,

A blaring radio station playing a wistful seventies celluloid number,

A riot of street urchins on the slate black four-lane,

With survival instincts – sinewy steel – Nay fear!

A few yards away a murky old hut exists,

Where a crooked lady impoverished… with her old man persists,

Roofs of the tattered shelter invite the rains

A distorted array of vessels scattered on the floor,

An assemblage for the manna from heaven,

Pitter patter the rains fall

Sweet bitter memories for one and all!!!!