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A Grey Hope

By Madhumita Patil


Hot summer days and warm nights,

Clear skies see a range of coloured kites.

The clouds gather around to our surprise.

Kids start to build paper-boats, the adolescents step out on their romantic rides.


The first drop of rain touches my cheek,

I think about the lips that once touched me there,

Refreshing the memory of those soft lips, surrounded by a spikey beard and a moustache.


Suddenly the city becomes a paradise,

The skies grey, perhaps the only time grey births a fresh hope.




The older kids waiting with their jerseys and studs on,

The strays on the street, active and wagging along.

The Gulmohar flowers, a red lava, waiting to be calmed and soothed,

The hopeful seed trapped in the soil,

Waiting to grow into a tiny shoot.


The rain comes down to meet the seed, the red lava, the careworn street dogs, and the kids.

A blessing from above, a drop at a time,

The rains bring along happiness and joy.

My heart wells up with all those pleasant memories,

Those times when I walked alone listening to music,

Those times when I strolled with my friends, singing and dancing,

And those, when two souls connected as their hands intertwined.


The first rain, brings along with it more than just droplets of water,

A therapy to the broken heart, a bandage for the mending heart,

A hope that the flowers and life too, will bloom again,

And a blessing that,

However hard and difficult it gets,

It’s all going to be fine one day.


By Madhumita Patil




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