Unseasonable

 showers,
this is no way to come.
Did I call you?
There was no need to come.
Do you really like to come
this way, not invited, unwelcome guest?
Yes, I did call you , but those were the days that belonged to you, the expectant mood of the wait for the rains, when the rains are needed sorely,
and I did wait for you then.
You have come
when I had to learn to give up
 hunger and thirst.
How was I to know
that what held you back
was something so simple but hard to break
because so simple–
Your conceit, your pride.
How often the hands went up in prayer
that you may hear me and answer my call.
When seized with the slightest hope that you would come answer my call,
I had offered thousands of oblations and lit up the home with rows of candles
in the hope of your coming.
That indeed was the time to come!

And you have come now
when there is no passion left in my calling,
when the lights have dimmed
and are waiting to die,
when the portals and the windows are closed to keep out the rains and the winds
and I have neither the desire left,
nor the strength
to rise and open the gates.
But your visage tells me
that I must wake up and take you in.
You are standing at the door
 with the defeat on your hands,
a winner once, and now a forgotten tale.
The rain you are that I once yearned for
and now I am
 inside a home, behind closed doors,
with no memory or knowledge of
the protocol of love.    

Original in Hindi by Neena Dighe
Translated into English by Sushama Karnik

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