“Shiver me timbers! I’ll whip up a storm!” Comes a booming voice from the mist Poseidon the god of the oceans and seas Has got his undies in a twist
This god of the waters is often upset To him anger comes easily He’ll magically make a thunder cloud And bring down rain and sleet
Poseidon is Zeus’s brother and folks Find it hard to say which one Is more powerful, brave and strong On this point they keep mum -shhhhh!
People know that if they take sides The gods may become mean Then the dog may eat your homework And Dad could holler and scream
Poseidon’s little loo secret This story also cannot miss Look it up, it is a bit gross His special “Poseidon’s Kiss”
Poseidon has his own weapon He keeps his trident safe And points it at a gentle sea When he wants to make big waves
He also loves the queen of gods And Hera loves him back That is one big secret that Zeus hasn’t quite cracked
So next time you’re caught in some rain And don’t have an umbrella Just say “god I wish this would stop” Poseidon can sometimes be a jolly good fella.
I can wake up on the wrong side Of the bed today I can let gravity pull at all my happy curves My smile, my feet that skip My stoical nerves I can despair today I can stare At myself in the mirror for an hour today I can have conversations with her today Openly, honestly Or maybe not I can look away while I sit In front of her looking at me It’s that kind of a paradoxical day Full of contrariness, of rights and lefts Downs and ups, shakes and nods Of sunny dawns and 8am thundery skies Of bewildering vibes and double negatives Of not being entirely unhappy with things Not unstill … but still, not entirely still
The kind of day that hugs you tight Holding you in the hollow of her hands And the next moment thrusts you away With a flick of her wrist. You’re stranded. Alone I look in the mirror trying to decide Whether I want to fret or if I want to fight Stew in my head or go at it The daedalean knot loosens bit by bit
F-i-s-t-i-c-u-f-f-s, a k—ick to the ribs Right-into-the-leathery-heart-of-things
I wage it out in a phantasmal bout Unfailing precision, all contact bulls-eyed Unfettering, releasing with every strike I’m Bruce Lee and Catwoman rolled into one Nothing’s enough. I go all out Riding the bracing rush of my blood Piercing through the eye of the storm
It’s Over, It’s All Done The Battle Within Has Been Won
I take in a breath Deep. Freeing. An all-organ sweep Another breath, reviving, serene The contrariety for today Has been washed away or dry-cleaned Either way By machinations of the mind On battlefronts designed On psychogenic frontlines Or laundromats for bruises and stains Either way, one way or another On the inside, the rumble is done I look into the mirror again Into the quiet depths of her eyes The morning rain has played its song The world is a patchwork of dappled sunshine The lingering clouds are peaceful, unrushed Like the gentle pulse of her bloodstream For a few moments in the mirror today Her tranquillity was in disarray But she can’t despair, not today While the universe around her winks and gleams.
When I look inside of you Into the very depths of you Do you know what I see? Two stormy mushroom clouds Looming wetly in your eyes Grey harbingers of doom They roil and linger in the room I’m afraid; I’m mesmerized Then Boom! Everything is gone In the ferocity Of your atom bomb Atomic, Anatomic, Catatonic The fearsome stillness after the storm Your atoms ravaged out of form
When I look inside of you I see vanquished fields beneath The clouds of smoke and acid rain I see the skeletons of trees The mucid ashes of flowers and bees They were rustling, bustling, hustling Their atoms dancing merrily You plucked each atom from its orbit In the fierceness Of your tragedy Calamity, Catastrophe You heaved your mighty weight upon it Smote your world beneath your feet
When I look inside of you I see the heaving cosmos Suns and planets whirling, swirling In the vast blue-blackness Meteors like fireworks Blazing exultant trails Shimmering tails, Star-burnished sails The firmament a holy grail You crush the heavens in your fist You flick your angry blue-bruised wrist The sky comes crashing down Molten lava on the ground Seismic vapor all around I can taste it in my mouth
But when I look at you from here You sit there statue-still Not an eyelash moves at all You are transparent, mystical Ethereal, Apparitional But within Clandestine, Hidden There are raging storms Carrying sand and ice alike I feel a chill in my bones And all of hell’s feverous might And all the while you look at me Your skin shrouded in serenity While in a loop, relentlessly You break and shatter on the inside.
This piece is inspired by the dramatic elements of surprise that are innate to tropical weather. An ethereal tribute to Sri Lanka. Title inspiration from Mark Medoff’s 1979 play titled “Children of a Lesser God”. Screen-adapted in 1986 by the same title. Indra: Hindu storm god Yu Shi: Chinese rain god Zeus: Greek storm god Calandra: Greek goddess of rain Olympus: Abode of the gods and site of the throne of Zeus
Having lived in the golden arms of a tropical island in the Indian Ocean for over 5 years now, I have had ample opportunity to experience its whimsical flirtations with the weather gods. From a spirited lightsaber play with Indra*, to a blitheful dance in the rain with Yu Shi* to a gladiatorial display of stormy rage and thunder with Zeus*, the tear drop island of Sri Lanka has perfected a celestial theatre all its own. The spectators, all its creature denizens, are left sometimes daunted, sometimes dazzled but mostly awed.
Here’s my attempt at describing a not so unusual day in the equatorial climes of Serendib.
Act 1 - Scene 1: I wake up to a pale amber light filling the space above the curtain rails in my bedroom. The usually glad-eyed sun is in a somber mood today as I draw back the drapes on an overcast day. I can feel the fickle aura of the atmosphere seep into my bones and I know it’s going to be one of those weather-wise dramatic days. I arm myself with an umbrella as I step out into the late morning torpor. For, while the heavens prepare to unleash their elemental surprises for the day, the moisture laden warmth of the tropics continues to caress all and sundry with sticky-wet fingers. The clouds continue to gather in thick-bodied eskers along the horizon while the sky above shifts between a myriad shades of grey. The trees sway to the side favoured by the wind, rustling prophetically of things to come. Then suddenly they are still, silent. A storm is brewing.
Act 1 - Scene 2: As far away as the rain bearing clouds appeared 20 minutes ago, they have magically, mysteriously traversed the curvature of our atmosphere and are now directly overhead. The grey of the sky becomes opaque like thick wedges of granite. Even though you’ve witnessed this drum roll of a scene a million times, it stops you in your tracks, makes you look up, sends the smallest of cold shivers down your spine. If you’re indoors, you look on from the safety of your enclosed space. If you’re in your car, you hurry home; if you’re walking, you quicken your steps to the nearest shelter. And then the weather gods begin their ethereal orchestra as big fat drops of rain begin to pelt the earth in an opening prelude.
Act 1 - Scene 3: Lightning forks through the sky in an ever widening mesh across the city, its jagged ends tearing into the clouds overhead. Jeering, threatening, laughing Thunder strides along with its booming megaphone. The stuporously falling rain has now transformed into sinewy sheets that cut diagonally into the stinging, singing earth. The usually bustling streets are almost empty; when the gods are at play, the mortals look on from safe distances. Maternal Calandra* cloaks the city in a gentle haze, blurring out the most riotous parts of the explosive crescendo. And the rain continues to come down.
Act 2 - Scene 1: The glistening leaves on the rain-washed trees rustle in the evening breeze, shaking off their watery burdens drop by drop. The Earth rises from her lotus position, stretching out her arms, a sweet petrichor exuding from every pore. Flying, crawling, creeping creatures poke out wary heads, blinking at their shimmering world. The more intrepid venture out for a last meal before their day is finally done. Fledglings raise a stridently petulant clamour, instinctively aware that the beast has moved on and their world is once more safe and bounteous. People hurry on with their lives, still guarded, still weather-anxious but impelled by that unceasing urge to get up and go on. There is a final roll of distant thunder as Zeus laughs one last time. The clouds clear and a rosy orange sunset appears on the horizon as the rest of the deific thespians head back to Olympus*, their cosmic romping done for the day.
Act 2 - Carpe Momentum: The late evening breeze is cool and crisp as it darts nimbly into gardens and homes, nipping gently at sun-browned skin. The sky is clearer, brighter as Orion and Taurus blink in nocturnal wakefulness. The smaller creatures are abed, while the bigger ones slow down in the gentle luminescence of a clear, fragrant night. Tomorrow will be another day with its own atmospheric act and aura, for that is the way of the lusty tropics. And the children of the weather gods will awaken to a new day, fresh beginnings and another chance to get it right.
I want to know, have you ever seen the rain? I want to know, have you ever seen the rain Comin’ down on a sunny day? – Rod Stewart
Mahvash Mohtadullah 