#NaPoWriMo Day 10

Prompt: Write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon.

"It's mango season," my mother would announce,
Every summer in the sleepy city of Calcutta,
Making us kairi ka paani or aamras on alternate days.

The seasons passed slowly in the City of Joy,
Where not taking a siesta at noon was frowned upon,
And shopkeepers made it a point to shut shop from 14.00 to 15.30 everyday to nap.

It's funny how I grew up identifying a season with the fruits and vegetables in the market,
And what not to eat when.

Winter was for peas, strawberries, carrots.
Summer was for bhindi, sitafal kulfis, plucking kamrak from my grandmother's tree.

Monsoon was the time when street food was forbidden,
Yet the most gratifying time of the year to have puchkas,
Despite how much I would enjoy it 365 days a year regardless.

And if India has a version of spring,
(It doesn't. One day, it's the last day of winter; the next day, summer arrives in full force)Then spring is when you start indulging in tender coconut ice cream, filling up the ice cubes,
And gearing up for the sizzling fury of the sun god, ready to set our urban jungles on fire.