When the rains break, they break with gusto,
Long awaited monsoon floods everything in Delhi,
Every street it seems becomes a lake,
The little shacks in the slums become islands,
Islands in a sea of mud and you don’t want to know,
When the drains and gullies overflow.
No matter how much rain everyone seems to enjoy it,
Not least the kids of Project Why,
They quite happily walk home from school,
Taking advantage of the cooling rain,
Young kids play out in it, laughing and squealing,
The wetter the better.
Not all good news though,
A badly thought out,
Misplaced hole in the road to lay cables,
An ancient tree, it’s roots cut thoughtlessly,
The lovely Sikh taxi drivers who are friends of Project Why,
Sat right next to the tree awaiting the next fare,
Lucky they were sat on chairs in the shade not in the car.