A Summer Evening in Bhopal

It begins when the wind turns,
And the crickets and the cicadas open,
their long talks on the business of the day now past.
It begins when the wind sighs and sheds its heat
And wraps a cool blouse around its shoulders,
and curls up next to me across the lawn.
We watch the bats chase away the birds
as the crickets talk about it all.
The lake seems to almost smile then,
Just before the Sun dives into its arms,
Like a wayward son running home to Ma.
The jasmine opens it’s doors, and the figs,
and the champa begin their ever-shy courtship.
I am thinking of all that I have become,
And all that I wish to be.
And here, under these summer stars,
And their quiet sussurating song,
Neither fill me with shame.
I wake to walk back, with the wind
Laughing beside me,
All the way, all the way home.