Niļa is a local name for the Bhāratapuzha, which flows across north-central Kerala to the Arabian Sea Mornings in late July Stern in the steel-grey skies Warnings of thunder cried Reminders of gain Looked at the hard earth which Spoke of our dearth, and rich Smoke curled over the bridge Praying for rain. Nila lay cold and stark Silver though was her spark Filament of the dark Thread in the sun River so kind and cool Reliever of summer's rule Giver when to our cruel Loom she be spun. Who shall applaud her now? When in thrall this is how The call of the arrow Summons the bow: In coil on coil the snake Steels all her strength to make Always without mistake That one springing blow. 2 Slowly she rose above Lowly reef, spit and cove Flowed to that one remove Beneath the town Then broke the waters pent One stroke the pattern rent Dark cloaked the firmament The rain came down. Rising to embrace us Twining through embrasures Smiling she increases Giver of wealth – Winding where she pleases Minding no man-measures Why should she displace us But for our health. Swelling a mile each way Felling the palms to lie Telling their tales to grey Unmannered sky Motionless in her sweep Ocean is not more deep Chosen secrets to keep Than this of eye. 3 Blood and bone cannot stand Flood and famine at hand Rudely we understand The day is now One hour from the end All ours may pretend But powers of a friend Have become foe. How she batters the wall! How she gathers her all Howling the southwest falls Upon a shore That yesterday was ours That festival and flowers And arrested lovers Kept tame ever more. Lashing our flesh with cane Smashing to mud again Cash and the hoarded grain And our tall walls Believe, animals yet Relive, or else forget To scrive the alphabet At that one call. 4 Goddess or madness, this Glorious gladness is Tore from us anxieties Living a lie Storm and suddenness shook Form from fate, eye from look Dormant the master woke O thus to die. Brown corpses rent across Town, village counted loss Blown and battered alas We are still here River we worshipped once Stealer of spoiled sons Deceiver, while she runs What should we fear. Fever of sacrifice: Ever the victim vies With the haruspices' Vision of time: Grey water running free Straight to tomorrow's sea Faith that I cannot keep Go, and keep mine.