Thursday, 19 June 2008

Before the monsoon


There are days like this. When I feel dry, bare, buffeted.
All around her, the others still wear green; this tree is out of sync
with the seasons. She follows some other rhythm, some African beat
that only she hears. Her pods have been emptied of their cellophane seeds,
ransacked by wild parakeets and squirrels. When they fall, these pods
look like canoes. But though the skies are grey and the wind promises rain,
it lies, and so the canoes rot slowly in the graveyard at her feet.

P.S. This is an African flame tree that grows at the edge of the graveyard behind our terrace.

5 comments:

IRIS said...

Lovely writing, this one! Profound.

Nazu Tonse said...

thank you! been in a profound mood of late!!

MiNi said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
MiNi said...

Very nice photo there!

shivani said...

Wow! Beautiful picture and the words very touching indeed.
Iris has rightly said 'profound' I ditto to that because I don't have any better word than that. Not at this moment when I see the picture again and read ur words again...