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i remember the fields
long grass and the patches of soft leaves
i remember the birds
birds that flew low around each other
free and proud
i remember the wind
cooling and steady 
brushing by painting the air 
soft strokes of comfortable colours
i remember the beginning
like a thin curtain falling across the landscape
the first drapes of rain set free 
from the still bright sky
and then the buildup
the percussions and strings
the torrents
the mighty torrents
that beat down hard
like a lover and his beloved
after a long absence
the sturdy shower
and its rhythm 
i remember the ground
the sand's reaction to the raindrops
like skin and fingers
in a sped up caress
i remember the booming that rocked the land
and its echoes that vibrated deep to the core
seizing the wet shaking land
and i remember the slowing down
the showers leaving lightly
the tender peace of the storm's aftermath
the air still cooled and fresh
the ancient afterglow of the monsoon's passing
i remember.

here the rain is different. it doesn't cleanse. it pours like petty arguments pushing blame and guilt around the surface. the wind blows cold and chilling. bitter rain that suffers no one to bask in it. the broken flightless bird-pigeons hobble and scurry like rodents. the pitter patter has a catchy sound, but it all sounds hollow after a while. 

i need a monsoon...