Illumination in passionate animation,
Lashing out in sweltering oppression,
Merciless and without showing consideration,
The sun’s rays are spread out as if with a vengeful ambition,
Penalizing the earth for perfecting its annual routine of revolution.
Year after year as the temperatures soar,
The lush green earth becomes parched and sore,
Disrobing itself of all its glamour and décor,
It yearns feebly for a cumulonimbus thunder roar,
Hoping to quench its thirst from a heavy downpour.
Poor farmers sigh deep with hands on their heads,
Wherefrom would they make provisions for their daily bread?
Loaners’ knocks they frightfully dread,
Painful tears they wistfully shed,
With deep chagrin they find no way but to hang their heads.
Shady trees with their boughs weighing with fruits,
Have been plucked up from their very roots,
Humans with their ambitious pursuits,
Have contributed to making the global climate so very acute,
As if not enough, the environment we continue to pollute.
The affluent in their air conditioned homes, offices and cars,
May not get many of the scorching heat’s scars,
Just thinking of the slum dwellers and daily wagers,
One wish arises – can there not be any climate changers,
To bring respite to all despite their financial statuses?
The result of man’s ill-deed or a curse from God,
Or both it seems would get the responsibility nod,
Doling out summer freebies with a wand and a rod,
Continuous perspiration along with dry lips and throat,
Whacking the life out of men and beast both.
No matter how hard we now campaign,
Climate change poses an irreversible pain,
Melting glaciers and rising sea levels,
Make the earth look pale and disheveled,
Threatening to create havocs – much to the glee of the devil.
As we bask in the luscious shades of our homes,
May we not forget to show kindness to the hapless vagabonds,
The vehemence of the summer we cannot reduce,
But we can surely hand them over a glass of juice,
To douse their thirst and to relief induce!
Summers are blessings in the seasonal wheel,
So that no one does moist and frozen reel,
The beauty of it however is now under a seal,
With languishing calls to relief feel,
And for the body mind and soul to rise and heal.
(P.S. Written as a reflection on Indian summers)