Edible Shoots

I still can't remember to my god's glory, the poet who wrote the lines in my mother tongue that can be roughly translated as… "Life is a night rain. It would all be over, by the time we get up" ( Jeevitham oru rathri mazha Nam unarumbozhekkumathu chornirikkum) Every rain brings this couplet into my mind but always untagged with the name of the poet. I am still looking for him to kiss the soil under his foot. It rained heavily for two days in Abha and we got an additional day on our spring break. In my six years stay in Abha, I have never seen such a big shower on the top of the city before. I feel like a lazy Sunday morning back home rained overnight. Pouring memories on landscape of mind, leaving me totally wet in nostalgic reminiscence. Splashing muddy water to …we used to tread  on every puddle of water on our way and  back to school. Either side of the road form a kind of makeshift canal for us to build bunds and dams…It drives me crazy as I stroll