Sumer noon
In my home in Malabar
In this dusty winding roads
Piercing the heart of the village
Wind across the mountain
Blowing hot and red
Swaying arc nut palms
And coconut trees
Like the dance of goads
Carrying the fragrance of
Dried hay and parched earth
Sway across cashew groves
Kids under a Mango tree
Wanting mangos rain
Resting after a days swim
In the village pond
Sun shines high on
Empty paddy fields
Turing them Golden fields
Once swollen might river
Now a string of water patches
Glowing like drops of pearls
In the scotching sun
Women with shining eyes
With their giggling bangles
Washing cloths and carrying pots
Men in pristine white
Rest under the banyan tree
Watching the “theyyams” passing by
With drummers tranquilizes their
Worries of the life.
Soccer players and cricket games
For the evening to go
Somewhere a horn bill cry
With a call from mosque
And a chant from a kovil
Breeze kisses my face
As sky turn crimson
A summer noon in
Malabar village Passes by
vanishing in the lingering twilight