I’ve never seen rain – at this comment
The girl became surprised
I said, I swear, I didn’t see
I didn’t see cloud
Not even storm or a deluge
Never saw lightning
Not even the sky
I wish I could touch the sky
I hadn’t had chance
Is the sky very far?
The girl startled.
And looked at me deeply
I wasted forty years
Listening to a queer sound of rain
Still I haven’t seen the rain
Rain jingles on the glasses of windowpane
Rainwater sparkle on the hanging pots on the veranda
I could touch spreading my hands
But I couldn’t touch
The girl asked, why you couldn’t?
The girl stretched her hand
Tried to touch
But couldn’t find me.
With the spreading warmth of her breath
I started to melt and loose
My flesh, blood and body
And after some time it dissolved into air
The sound of melodious rhythm of my soul.
Over forty years one rainy night I was dead
While digging the grave onlookers saw its full of water
Only water . . . !
The corpse was kept in the water filled grave
Even now it fills with water when its rain
My eyes and sockets of my feelings get submerged
From that day I cannot see rains
But I can hear the sounds of unnatural rain
dropp down on the grave
dropp by drop.
© Shahabuddin Nagari