When Nature comes knocking
Carefully he nudged it along with a little stick,
The tyre wobbled, but kept in its file.
Just then the first drop of rain kissed his cheek,
And quietly flowed into his heartfelt smile.
His pace quickened, his friend he beckoned,
Their run back home was a joyful caper.
The drizzle, however, wasn’t a call for indoors,
But the time to bring out little boats of paper.
The sky, soon enough, shed its azure,
The pitter-patter quickly turned to thunder.
Anything but gentle this shower was,
How much longer, the boy did wonder.
His friend left, mother dragged him inside,
Their boats now sunk under a bed of water.
Their tin roof looked rather keen to give,
His mother’s forehead betrayed a hint of bother.
That night went by, so did another couple,
The relentless Indra refused to rest.
The crack of dawn was heard in their ceiling,
Time had come to abandon their nest.
Mother, in one hand, clutched a tiny bag,
And held his trembling fingers with the other.
Men, women, were all wading through the streets,
They weren’t alone, was all he could gather.
His aunt’s house was another storey, a refuge,
These desperate times had led them to seek.
Their path was tricky, marred by flood,
The rainwater, soon, of their sweat reek.
Blaring horns few days back, now calls for help,
All means to reach out rocked off the grid.
Shelter, food — all rendered too scarce,
The water failed to ebb, but some lives did.
T’was barely the city he knew, the young boy,
Even the old tea stall had been swept away.
They’d walked, nay swam, for hours on end,
“We’re almost there”, his mother did say.
The torrent raged on, only growing in fury,
The deluge threatening to engulf them two.
Some kind hearts with brave hands came forth,
Of their tired feet, now, they had a boat in lieu.
They made it to their aunt’s place, at last,
It’d taken a beating but, yet, in place.
The boy and his mother huddled with the others,
And prayed for the ever-so-elusive sun’s rays.
The storm did abate, but not before it had,
Brought down the city down on its knees.
Walls had come down, but the hearts were stronger,
A lot of good, and some bad, all come to cease.
Days later, the boy, the mother, started anew,
His evenings, he began to playfully spend.
The tyre kept company, so did the stick,
But silently, he missed his good old friend.