PIER 21 PROMPT

Rain Rain Go Away — Come Again Today!

Rain, me, and the love-hate relationship

Chaudhry Writes
My Fair Lighthouse

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a wet crop field with lightening in the background
Photo by Eugene Triguba on Unsplash

I hated the long walk back from school during monsoon season in our village. Being drenched in the rain with your umbrella running amok in the wind was never a good feeling. The monsoon rain is especially harsh! I could feel its sharpness. It felt as if a thousand needles were pushing against my face — I could barely keep my eyes open!

With every step, my shoes got heavier, because of the accumulating rainwater. Every day we had to cross a stream — I liked it better during the dry winters when the stream was reduced to a trickle. The rainy season was different — often I had to wade through 2–3 feet of water.

It sucked even when the rain gods were kinder and only let in a drizzle and not buckets full of water. My sister and I shared a single umbrella which was never enough for either of us. As we walked, my sister would hold the umbrella over my head, trying in vain to keep me dry.

Often our school bags would be soaking wet, and our nights were spent drying our books and school bags over the tiny fireplace in our kitchen. My mom would have to work twice as hard to make sure that our clothes and shoes were dry enough for school the next morning.

Our farm animals got sick because of the rain, and often the monsoon thunderstorms would destroy our crops. I was dead sure that I would never like the rain after all the trouble it caused me during my childhood.

My dad loved the rainy season, though. The rains replenished the water well in our backyard — our only source of drinking and household water. He liked the bright green trees beaming after the shower and the rainbows.

I was never impressed by the trees or the rainbows. These were not moments of solace, as my dad described them — they were grim reminders of the imminent rainfall.

As I walked towards my office building anticipating a long day of work, I spotted a lone, dark cloud on the otherwise empty sky. Another false dawn. I sighed inwardly — it had been an unusually long dry spell in the coastal city that I worked in and called home now.

The day whizzed past me — the hustle, bustle, and busting-my-butt part of the day did not let me peek at the window or observe what the tiny cloud was up to.

As I walked towards the exit, my heart pounded with anticipation as I spotted some wet footprints near the exit. It was raining outside!

raindrops falling on a shirtless man
Photo by Christopher Campbell on Unsplash

I briskly walked towards the exit and stepped outside. It would be wrong to call it rain — it barely qualified as a drizzle.

I took my coat off and closed my eyes — I could feel the tiny raindrops falling gingerly over me. I did not care if the rain spoiled my clothes or ruined my expensive shoes. Heck, I did not even care if the documents that I held in my hand became wet.

I had longed for this rain for quite some time now. As I opened my eyes, I saw happy faces all around me. Everyone was grateful for the respite from the long dry spell.

I smiled inwardly as I recalled my childhood and my intense dislike for the rain, back then. All I uttered back then was rain, rain go away…

I looked up at the sky and felt the tiny raindrops pouring over my face. I am glad that you have come back today!

And here’s a song that fits with the title of my story. :)

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Chaudhry Writes
My Fair Lighthouse

I think & I write. A leader by day and a writer by night.