An ode to the greatest composer of philharmonic from Byzantine empire: A poem by Mousumee Baruah

A  multifaceted and multidimensional, and like seven musical notes.
Slumber in the eyes of an insomniac, when she plays a symphony in the rooftops.
She is a savior to weary new mother when her baby finally sleeps listening to her pitter-patter rendition.
She is a muse to bards, mysterious
plots, subplots to storytellers.
She also drapes different shades and smiles.
She is a  chubby, garrulous smile of children, when they dance in her symphonies, making paper boats in glee.
She is a blushful smile of a lover, when they sizzle and drizzle, drenched in love.
She is the mating call of a peacock, screaming in ecstasy with colorful plumages.
She is the elixir in drought-hit terrain.
When farmers see an overcast sky and smell petrichor,
A beatific smile shines from their parched lips, dreaming of lush emerald paddy field and eventually a golden harvest before the autumn fall.
All the burden of debt from farmers, she wipes away with her philanthropic silvery touch.
Yet at catchment area, she conjures up the river, and river swirls with euphoric and inundating flooding, agrarian land, shelters, crushing embankments.
So here she is an enigma, different role at different terrain.
But she conveys a message, with the accompanying wind, which makes it contagious.
That life is both an amalgamation of boon and gloom, accept challenges sans fuss.
She is monsoon, one can love her, one can despise her but one cannot ignore her at any cost.

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