In the Month of May

She sat at the window
watching the flaming orange flowers
Gulmohars were in fact her favourite
They swayed in the wind,
like thoughts in a dream
creating a sharp contrast
with the dull blue sky
It was nearly June.
The clouds were turning
a darker shade of grey,
and the sun was shining less brightly
She could already smell the wet mud
and hear the crackling wood
burnt by the homeless
on Mumbai’s harsh monsoon streets;
there was no escape for them
As she stopped to look
at the cottage cheese salad
laid out before her
a fresh surge of nausea overtook her
She wondered for how long
could the secret
nestled dangerously deep
within her womb remain hidden
After all, May was almost over