Summer

It always begins with the
putting away of the humongous blanket
in the top storage shelf
for the next several months.

Then, slo w l y
track pants and pyjamas
make their way
to the back of the cupboard
as shorts and boxers
come to be worn
more and more often.

Oranges, guavas, custard apples, and figs
in the discoloured fruit basket
that sits on an old stool in the kitchen
come to be replaced with
watermelons, lychees, mangoes, and plums.

The refrigerator
becomes home
to water bottles,
glasses of juice,
tumblers of buttermilk,
and a jar of concentrated panha.

Sunlight stabs
every surface it touches -
concrete, soil, fabric, and skin -
as early as 7 am.

Windows find themselves
covered with khus curtains
defending us mortals
from the sun's wrath.

I sit on the terrace
staring down the sun
smiling at the moon when he awakens
and take pictures -
a mix of silhouettes of building tops
and tail lights of vehicles -
in the mysterious blue light
just before dark,
that signals
the summer's arrival
after 9 months
of globetrotting.