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The Weatherman

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My father sniffed the winds

cocked his head

and said

I can feel the rains

sneaking eastward

then doubling back

north westerly

past the Western Ghats

to spout as if

from an elephant’s trunk

at midnight.

Then with a beatific smile

at the  certainty

of his forecast, turned

tripped on his dhothi

clutched and clawed

at the door frame

 steadied  himself

and settled down for

the 6 o’clock Asianet news.

The sky 

a clear blue challenge

would call his bluff

I thought.

Half way through

the midnight movie

in the shadow of the night

the sky snarled black

and taut rain strings rolled out

bales of water.

Parting the curtains

loaded with  a childhood

 midnight fright

watched the breakdance

 of thunder

through the rain curtains.

…………………………………………….

neerada

 

3 Comments

  1. Vishvnand says:

    Nice, elegant, different and beautiful.
    Delighting reading.

  2. neerada says:

    thanks विश्वनंद
    neerada

  3. Gion Gion says:

    Neerada,
    lovely story, well told.
    “through the rain curtains.” – may I suggest (through the sheets of rain) to avoid the repetition of the word “curtains”?
    Fergus

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