The evening wind blows,
And blows away the dry leaves
That gather in front of our hut,
All the sun and moon, ample of them
Shine through it, day and night!

The evening wind blows,
And blows away the sweat,
But lets the dirt linger…
On her brows, under her eyes
On her neck, under her cheek.

The evening wind blows,
And let us know…
That our mother is on the way
Somewhere just near us.
Wrapped in darkness,
Our nostrils quiver
And start to smell…
The aroma of rice, slightly burnt
Mixed in green chilly
And some grains of salt!

Author: Purna Naik, Nottingham Trent University, UK.