Petrichor Aditi Krishnakumar School and the monsoon Always began together. You never remember The smell of a classroom after it’s rained all night As well as you do The smell when you splash home through puddles, Spots of mud on your shoes: The smell they tell you is called petrichor. You sit by the window with homework and hot pakodas. Water drips off bushes. Frogs croak like creaking gates. In flashes of lightning the blossoms fall, Jasmine and frangipani and […] Continue Reading
