The speaker describes the sudden, powerful winds of Nagercoil, which hit like a truck and then soften into something like a lover's caress. The poem fills the landscape with movement: dragonflies are tossed about, ponds ripple, crows and doves stagger like drunks, palm leaves chatter together, and the paddy fields roll like a green sea. The comparisons are playful and affectionate, so the wind feels more like a lively, slightly mischievous presence than a threat.
Then everything stops. The calm is so complete that the speaker wonders whether the wind was ever real or only a hallucination. In the last stanza, the poem turns inward. Nagercoil "suits" the speaker because the same pattern happens inside them: feelings that surge, blow hard, and then vanish without warning. The mood moves from exhilaration to eerie stillness, ending on a quiet, slightly wistful note of self-recognition.