Dhaka Beat
The thunder clouds loom afar.
Ominous yet welcome.
Reminders of her abeyant mood. As the oppressive midday heat
doesn't miss a Dhaka beat. Stifled in traffic jamming jam
Nerves taught with overflow like inbox spam
Hot wet heavy droplet galore
Sticky sauna sweat from every pore Anticipating the coming jhor….. The cozy comfort of moist warmth
Hit by mock cool a/c air
Immediate relief from the cutting glare
Tempering feelings of despair
Savouring the seasons that we share Reminiscent of Tagore songs
heralding the arrival of borsha… aaji jhoro jhoro mukhoro badal dine… Soothing around her.
The falling drops
Coalesce to meet
Waiting for the refreshing sheet
A shock of quenching surround sound
Liberating the space
With that different pace
of the coming of the rains… For when they came
They took her breath away
Washed away that feeling
Put in its place
The connection
with all that Is.
Here and around. The pouring sound
Made her catch her breath
As she cast her eyes
She soared and dived
Though her senses connived
To take it all away.
Before she was ready
To savour the moment. Showered by the sudden rain
Childhood exhilaration reincarnated again.
To the amazement
Of discovering
what it is all about. Yes,
The rains and storm came
Bringing breath and life
Lush lush kola pata green
That fresh wet sheen
Washing out the dusty haze of months afore
Cleansing her senses
And much much more.
Challenging the dense dark damp hot heat.
Finally rejuvenated to seek
That Dhaka beat…
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