Part 1
The word monsoon comes from the Arabic word mawsim
When the Arab sailors would come looking for riches in our lands
The winds of the east would change directions holding them back
Forcing their ships to wait – pining for Ihla Da Boa Vida (the Island of Good Life)
The Dutch would do the same after four months around Africa
Chasing stolen maps, they’d reach these shores only to find “moesson”
The trade winds of the east making them wait
For these clouds to change their hues
The British would time their deaths to it
Claim no one survives two monsoons in this godforsaken island
Yet they stayed – for death in Bom Bahiya – the Good Bay
Meant they were war heroes – in their battle for a British India
***
Do you ever think about me – your poet?
Everytime you look at the monsoon slashing at your windows
Do you stare at puddles in potholes
Imagining a different reflection of me with each ripple
I’m a lot like this island, you know
I’m not a part of the whole
I show my love the same way
By longing for you oceans away
You’ve tried reclaiming me from under the sea of solitude
Many times at your own expense
Yet you fail to claim me
I am and will forever be submerged in my silence
So – you wait out my monsoons
And descend with your ships of thoughts
When the clouds in my mind have cleared
You bask in the glory of sunshine
While my thoughts like stones drown me in my procrastination
Your love is a silver lining
And my love – the cloud
While you sigh at the smile on my lips
I just want to rain my words on your joy parade
Part 2
The brave they landed
The Parsis, the Jews, the Iranis – the Runaways
The British they were just a rubber stamp
This was and is an island of rejects
I often wonder how does the city not burst into flames
When every one in it is a firecracker?
Instead its lights from the sky,
Quietly guide our souls home every night
***
I like this, city keep my flames inside
Quietly burning from the inside out
While you – are always on fire
Forever warming my cold feet
You celebrate my empty rooms
Win my silence like a trophy
And I keep my longing for you packed in boxes
We will love like this forever I suppose
