Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Miracles (ahem...uncut)

Scorching heat, blazing sun
Uncomfortable days
Sleepless nights
Unrelenting for days on end
Everyone hoping
And hoping
And suddenly
There is a rumble
Darkening of the sky
A flash of light
A few drops fall
Flowers unfurl
Faces soften
Cool air
All the uncomfort receeds to the back of the mind

Observing this small miracle
One of the endless miracles of time
Someone murmurs:
'God is so very kind'

Came across this one yellowing page while cleaning the files and files (and piles and piles) of paper in my room; oddly under the 'electricity complaints' section. Well, what can I say, (sigh) twas one of the few attempts at prose in my early teens. I even took the 'poem' to the neighbourhood typist/photocopywallah and paid him a forgotten sum from my pocketmoney (100 Rupee for pocketmoney in those days got you A LOT of stuff) to type this on an A4 size sheet of paper. Clutching these few sheets of paper on my way back home I fancied myself an author with the first manuscript of bigger things to come. Sigh..sadly I grew up!


soumita said...

awww... and perfect for the weather too! :D

neiha said...

So totally agree with the last line...WHY DO WE GROW UP? Or maybe we grow up when we think we should be grown up?