Monsoonal Moment
SUK RAJ DARJEE
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I along with my witty villagers, marching to the field,
Holding tools in both hands, hoping for better yield.
Ploughing the terrace and planting the paddy is what we do,
Singing a song, praising the Lord, to preserve the culture in the crew.
The heat of the sun or beating of the rain, can’t cease to continue,
We forget to eat, as well, while many talks, and I argue.
And when the darkness reflects denoting, the day has come to an end,
We pack up our stuff, and move to the cottage, though tired as if born did bend.
