There’s a scent I will never forget:
the smell of wet earth,
rising softly with the wind
through the arched window of my little corner room,
upstairs, in our home in Kerala.
It was my sanctuary;
the place where I found a little bit of me,
as I sat with pen and paper,
ready to scribble whatever words found me,
unfiltered and free,
while the monsoon played its lullaby outside.
From that perch, I’d watch
little children wade home from school,
laughing, kicking at puddles,
their umbrellas swaying side to side.
Auto rickshaws with their rain flaps down
would glide past like boats,
curious faces peeking through slits,
eyes wide with wonder.
Coconut palms swayed to the rhythm of the rain,
and Amma’s garden bloomed anew;
roses and hibiscus lifting their faces
to receive their sky-sent blessings.
Sometimes, I’d slip out onto the side terrace,
just to feel the rain on my skin,
arms outstretched,
the world quiet except for the whisper of the drops.
It was bliss in its purest form.
And then came Amma’s call from below..
beckoning us in for tea and banana fritters.
But it wasn’t just a snack;
it was comfort; an emotion altogether.
It was : laughter with cousins, shared stories in candlelight
when power would blink out and leave us
bathed in the amber glow of togetherness.
Even during hostel days,
that last piece of homemade pazhampori
Brought all the way from home
sparked playful fights and homesick joy;
every bite a memory.
Years have passed,
yet the view from that window still holds its magic.
And now, I watch from that same room,
as my little girl runs across the same old yard,
holding her tiny, colorful umbrella.
She jumps, she splashes,
mud and water dancing around her frock,
laughter echoing into the rain-drenched air.
She’s living the monsoon
that once lived in me.
And in these moments,
the seasons loop back on themselves,
folding time into something tender;
a memory reborn.
The monsoons in Kerala are more than a season.
They’re a feeling; a rhythm; a homecoming.
And I carry them in me,
like a secret melody:
soft, familiar, and forever.
