Grandma’s rain by Abhishek Anicca


Photograph by Vija Celmins, Night Sky #2

Grandma’s rain


It will rain today, she says


the greyness of the sky

inflicts the disease of repetition

she is shrill and panicked

as the prospect of wet clothes

dawns on her


-there are around twenty

nearly wet clothes hanging on

a loosely tied plastic rope

on the first floor terrace

-they will get wet


‘but they are already wet’

they will get wet again


something scares her to death


II


death, doesn’t scare her anymore


she has reached an age

where she can be shrill

and not at all afraid of death

not that the two are related

but she uses it as an excuse


III


moments of anxiety creep up again

amidst the speculation about rain

it’s magnitude, its impact, it’s longevity


what will happen to the three unripe

mangoes hanging from the lonely tree

in the garden that sits outside the house


she worries as if their fate is connected


IV


the gloominess seems inevitable

it arrives as soon as it starts to rain

the grey clouds might have been responsible, if only

she was happier on bright days


V


between the hours that start

and the hours that end

there are hours that sit there

and simply stare at her

unblinking, until they inject

a deep sadness

within her restless soul

loneliness is a guest

she needs to get rid of


VI


she has found remedies

to outlast these lingering days

she sits on the porch, staring at the cars

for hours, from afternoon till late evening

not focusing on anything in particular


the senseless honking of the cars

doesn’t bother her any longer

she can be deaf when she needs to be


VII


It will rain again tomorrow

she wants to be well prepared, that’s all

she would have preferred if rain walked away

as memories do everyday

-they evaporate with the sun

they get washed away in the rain


VIII


she remembers some images

which remind her of a childhood -

a childhood forgotten in youth

in womanhood, in family, in work


suddenly, she is afraid of memories

they have a grip on her

they frighten her

she demands them to leave


her life requires no contemplation

-none


she finds her peace

sitting on the porch

-thoughtless as the rain



Abhishek Anicca is a poet, writer and researcher. He identifies as a person with disability and chronic illness. When not telling personal stories from his life, he writes on gender, politics and culture. Find his work here: https://muckrack.com/abhishek-anicca-1/portfolio