As I stand at my window watching the rain,
I see the world hurrying through the lane.
People standing at shops taking cover,
Some riding fast, wet in the rush hour.
Through the trees crystal raindrops fall,
Leaves dance and glisten like wax dolls.
Boys and girls playing in puddles.
Indian roads pose many a hurdle.
Platform dwellers drenched, look helplessly on,
At their homes now destroyed and gone.
The evening sky is very dark and gray,
The monsoon season is here to stay.
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