Sunday, March 8, 2009


It's hot and sultry
but not just right enough
The sun was far more demanding
In the town I grew up in.

It hit you on your skin
and pierced right through
Till you burnt a funny red
And then sweat cooled you up.

The hot vapours pricked you by
As you zoomed past on bikes.
Back home, under the lazy fan;
Water after a minute or two
Life would slowly seem bearable again...

Ahmedabad has a thousand memorable things
But the most I miss
Are those ruthless summer months.