Mamta Agarwal - ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Bougainvilleas! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

After summer solstice, <br />We earnestly pray for rain <br />In north Indian plains, <br />Drained after a long unforgiving summer. <br />Gulp down lemonade <br />Or a drink made of khus, almonds and melon seeds <br />Or juice of roasted raw mangoes, sweetened <br />And spiced with crushed cumin <br />Black salt and fresh mint leaves. <br /> <br />I glance at the sky <br />From my balcony <br />Eyebrows knitted, <br />And sigh in dismay <br />As I watch clouds gather <br />Tease and leave. <br />I can smell rain in <br />Some far off hills, <br />As wind carries <br />Wet earth’s fragrance. <br /> <br />My eyes rest on woody bougainvillea; <br />Vines scramble over boundary walls <br />And fence lines of neighbourhood villas <br />In colours as varied as a child’s first <br />Box of water paints. <br /> <br />As I take a swig from <br />My bottle of Kinley, <br />Am filled with wonder, <br />How they remain so buoyant <br />All day and by night, <br />Despite no respite <br />From drought and heat. <br />While the Sun furiously beats <br />Down on earth’s cracked crust? <br /> <br />But mother nurtures the roots, <br />Who knows how she replenishes itself…? <br />The thorny vine knows not sloth, <br />And withstands the fiery wrath <br />And burst forth in blossoms, <br />Full of spirit <br />Just enjoying being. <br /> <br />Oft I wonder, some flowers <br />Are fragrant, others a’int. <br />See what a plethora <br />Of colour, size and aura! <br />How amazing, they parlance <br />In complete silence. <br />Captivated, I just forgot <br />I was feeling hot. <br /> <br /> <br />.<br /><br />Mamta Agarwal<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bougainvilleas/