Aadi

This wind which takes its name
From the month when it keeps on
Like someone
Learning to speak
Tries to say something to me
Year after year
But goes undeciphered;
For some it is more
Like a footloose lunatic;
Who has come back again
With the same incoherent story;
Walking is now like toddling
Or moving on drunken feet;
I hear the wind cursed, at first
By women for its wanton ways
When it snatches at their clothes
Like a voyeur's minion
And messes up their hair
As would an envious in-law;
After a few days
It becomes a naughty child
Whose antics bring back smiles
And memories of the butter-thief;
It is at night the wind breaks down

Rattles every door and window
Crying to be let in