The Zen of Monsoons…


On a hot summer afternoon
I play hide and seek with squirrels.
Spotting one long-tailed fellow
on the lowest branch
of a functionless Ashoka,
I purr and snap my fingers
in a silly response to his restless squeak.
And in one brief moment,
he stares me in the eye,
scurries down the tree,
leaps across the manicured lawn
and fades from my view.
And in that one brief moment
The sun bears down a little less
And I feel my worries disappear

somewhere far away.


It rains,
an imperious monsoon burst
petering down into a steady drizzle,
And I am filled with a kind of gratitude
that is wordless and indescribable.
I dip my fingers into watery leaves
blossomed anew,
feel the drops bounce off my shirt,
stick my tongue out
and smell the fragrance
of a land, regenerated.
Perfection, ecstasy, tranquility,
Pure unadulterated bliss,
A Zen moment,
Call it what you will,
It is all that and more.

And in that moment,
an involuntary whisper,
to my chagrin, stutters,
β€œWhere are the squirrels?”


Posted on June 28, 2005, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 20 Comments.

  1. Fantastic!
    You just made the scene so visual πŸ™‚

  2. so, true…We see much less squirrels in the monsoon. Wonder where they shelter?

  3. Superb! Man its difficult to believe u r a techie….u shd be using ur creative genius elsewhere!

  4. that, surely, after a reading gives a nice feeling! i almost saw no squirrels there. πŸ™‚ thank you.

  5. Its getting more and more amazing – surely something must be inspiring all these bursts of imagination and creativity?

  6. I have a little story about squirrels. Someone narrated this to me. People in a particular area of Bangalore were thrilled to bits when a huge number of squirrels started hopping around their area on Ram Navmi day. They believed God Rama had sent his favourite animal to them on the day people celebrated him. The women noticed that the squirrels were sitting around and admiring the maakolam (rangoli made out of rice paste). That excited them even more. God Rama was actually admiring their art through the squirrels eyes.

    It was only much later that they realised the squirrels were actually there to lick off the rice paste from the maakolam. πŸ™‚


    • πŸ™‚ and the moral being?

      • Moral being…squirrels, like humans don’t come for an occassion. They come to eat πŸ˜‰
        LOL πŸ˜€

      • πŸ™‚ lol! Can’t argue on that πŸ™‚

        Did you know the stripes on the squirrel are because Rama blessed them? This one is my colleague’s story on the squirrels!!

      • And hope you know why they were blessed? In case you do’nt, the story goes that squirrels wanted to help Lord Rama in their own small way, on his journey to Lanka. So they would get themselves wet,roll in the sand, go back to the rock bridge being constructed and shake themselves off the sand on their bodies, filling in the gaps beteween the rocks. πŸ™‚

      • Wow! What a story! πŸ™‚ Thanks for that!

  7. Oh, ok, 2005, when I was totally new to LJ! Nice poem, as one of your fans says, very visual!

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