Mostly in monsoon weather,

In the grey hour, in the humid hour,

When the sky glints

Like tarnished silver,

When not a leaf quivers;

From the shadow,

From the brooding window,

The vanished faces beckon,

The vanished voices whisper,

Come hither, and remember…

 

Mostly in monsoon weather,

From the dimming dooryard

The young boy enters,

Takes a seat among the clutter,

Among books, abandoned letters,

And finds the unfamiliar

Are now the things that matter,

As the vanished faces look over,

As the vanished voices mutter,

We are here, remember?

 

Mostly in monsoon weather:

The rain arrives like the sigh

Of a thousand sulking afternoons,

In swirling puddles welling through

The leaning picket fence,

Scattering the dried tambis leaves

Grandmother has gathered to burn.

And the vanished faces beckon,

And the vanished voices whisper,

Come hither, and remember.

​

May 6, 2004

​

​

​