The recent downpours have been reminding me of a poem I had written way back in 2006; of how the rain dresses Dhaka in his embraces. Here it is.
Ice cream steaming in the road-side van
Rain etching itself down feeble walls
Children running wild in the water by the drain
Whilst an old man cuddles himself to the chill of rain.
The careworn farmer elate to the gift of God
And crops float with the rhythm of the waves
As a city girl with flowing black hair
Stares out to the silk of rain.
Beggars crowd the hide of railway stations
While rickshaw pullers embrace their fate
Crows rinse on telephone wires
Whereas hungry dogs search wet garbage bins.
Few cars splash water on the drenched streets
And clouds play with the dews of spring,
Families on roofs feel the mirth of rain
Just as everything remains the same.
Link to poem in Rising Stars, The Daily Star