I thirst… Not for love, money or Even happiness. I thirst for water To quench the parched earth To bring green to the brown To bring fresh hope to those Who raise crops and food for us. I need water To fill the pots Of each slum-dweller Who puts her (it’s never a he) Vessel in a long line of colours, Waiting to drink, wash and live. I have had enough of grishma ritu. I want varsha…not just the odd shower Or thunderstorm, but a steady, Cloudy, drumming season That will replenish the depleted Plateau,that we live on And call home.