From Shraddha


The sun’s out, and so are we.

The grey, dull clouds are gone at last,

And they better not come back any time fast.

The sun’s heat blinds us for a moment,

And a memory jumps back.

The times when we irked the heat, and

Wanted nothing to do with it,

Was all gone to the back of our heads,

As the heat found its unexpected freedom.

And with that freedom now found,

The heat does not stop,

And soon, we have had enough of it.

But the thoughts of the monsoon coming back alone,

Make us bitterly wish that the heat stayed put.

But is the sun one to listen to people’s problems?


It continues to rise rapidly, and what rises with it,

Is the everlasting heat, of course.

The heat almost kills us with its rays!

But again, it does give us the light.

It puts us in such a burden!

And that burden is what puts food on your plate!

Such a dilemma takes place in our own head,

And one half of us is filled with dread.

Yes, the sun is great,

But most of the time it just makes us hate!

It comes with huge iron bolts, as big as gates,

So that other seasons may not pass while only it stays.

Even with the ACs and fans on,

The place feels like a desert.

One step on the front porch,

And now, your ice creams are as good as dirt.

Only listening to its own rhythm and beat

The sun fully unleashes its heat.

That’s the story of heat in Chennai to me. Do you feel the same emotions about heat too?

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