  The rainy season in India, called monsoon, is a long awaited spectacle. And I as a child have always enjoyed it… The Sweet Monsoon The gentle breeze, The swaying trees; It touches my heart, The rattling wheel of the bullock-cart The sweet wonderful monsoon, I hear and watch the rain at noon.
It’s come, the awaited rainy season, Children splashing water, for no reason! Water, splashing in the puddles, To its mother, the young chick cuddles. I see no one running for shelter, The rainwater is so pure and tender. Farmers happy, their crops’ thirst quenched, To the rainwater, with joy they clenched. Earthworms peeping from small holes in the mud, Commencement of spring awaits the wet flower bud. Soon it’s silent, the rain is over, Sneezing children running for cover. The refreshing smell of the fresh grass, Takes me into another world trans. It’s over, the awaited monsoon, I hear and watch the rain at noon… Tejas 
