ODE TO THE INDIAN SUMMER

I

Thou cometh soft with baby steps so fine
One at a time and just one at a time
With March not marchin\’ to fall in thy line

Yet April warms up not so slight in clime
And May, not may but sure crank up the heat
Thy child too sendeth the loo to begrime

Ha! Shudder to imagine if thy feet
Dost venture yonder to cross the red rim,
The cancer that sets limit so discrete

Thou may thaw flakes white to turn the state grim
And bury the land whole, down the big plate
O! Thank thee plenty for such fancied whim

Yet, searin\’ fever melts the greys in pate
For some, the jolt too big to seal their fate.

II

Dismount thy tuck to wage a war on land
Ah! Thy cuts open mother\’s womb to tear
Long time ago, it went dry – the tear gland

Ah! Ghostly trees tell wrenchin\’ tales that scare
And peelin\’ barks expose the sappy mess
New kings, blithe termites white, crown\’d rightful heir

Once verdant hills mourn the loss of green tress
The wither\’d leaves rot a spectator mute
Unseen roots hurry far with no success

The baked bamboos hiss but where\’s play of flute?
And even cold asp gone to slumber deep
All fall as silent as the grave acute

The river, lost of sheen, begin to weep
Ah! See the life fall into a mud heap.

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III

The ryots poor, bathe in own salty sweat,
That knight in shinin\’ armour – fluid charm
Ah! Nature\’s very best to keep derm wet

Yet, tempers flare to do great many harm How goeth the heat, under their skin thick?
May be the ghastly sight of wither\’d farm

No fodder to feed cattle that look sick
With udders gone dry, the calves lie down glum
What mothers can do other than just lick?

E\’er wailin\’ infants too have gone quite dumb
Yet, some say, thou art part of a grand scheme
All-knowin\’ smile disguise what\’s next to come

Ah! None decipher thy crypt Delphic theme
Implore thee! Come and whisper in my dream.

IV

A giant shadow thou cast on land mine
Yet, in thy glory, write I, a grand ode
But, back in time, did label thee a swine

Ah! Suck\’d by red ball up, up and up flow\’d,
The hot air, to start spiral of new quest
Below, the bare sac on low pressure goad

Down under, it stirr\’d up a Magpie\’s nest
To launch a race that put to shame Ascot
O\’er long seas to make dry land truly bless\’d

None know the value of shade mild whilst not
Beneath the berserk Sun that blaze raw skin
Bah! A moron! Agnize not thy smart plot!

O! Driver of monsoon! Thou hast no sin
And all shall hail thee with a lovely grin.

P.S 1: Meaning and explanation

This ode is written in the style of the famous poet, P.B. Shelly. Each canto consists of four tercets (ABA, BCB, CDC, DED) ending in a rhyming couplet (EE), all written in iambic pentameter.
There are four cantos, which include some dramatic shifts in the theme and mood both within and across the cantos..There is a subtle political message too, with Summer being a metaphor for fascism and the monsoon it causes to bring, could mean the return of democracy. As the monsoon picks up itself from Australia, some help may be needed from other countries to restore the civil rights which are cruelly being snatched away under our own chin.

P.S 2: Meaning and explanation

Loo – a hot dusty wind from the Thar desert which blows in May and June towards the Indo-Gangetic plains, begrime – blacken with ingrained dirt, dost – do, yonder – farther, flakes white – snow, big plate – refers to the Eurasian plate under which the smaller Indian plate is sliding to push the Himalayas further up, fever – referring to the heat, greys – grey cells or neurons in the brain, pate – head.
In the first canto, the authors describe the gradual onset of the Indian summer from March to June. During the peak in May and June, the summer through its progeny, the desert sends a hot wind. But the author thanks the summer for small mercies, in this case, for not crossing the Tropic of Cancer. He claims that, if that has happened, all the snow from the Himalayas might have melted and the weight of that water would have pushed the Indian plate further under the Eurasian plate, putting a billion lives under jeopardy. He concludes this canto by asserting that such da.

Author: – Ravi R. Chokkalingam