Hey my people!!
If you ask any child their favourite season, chances are the answer will be the rainy season. Summer is too hot. Winter means sweaters and baths become a topic of national debate. But rain? Rain is pure magic.
It means puddles waiting to be jumped into. It means paper boats racing down little streams along the roadside. It means collecting water in containers and throwing on each other, catching raindrops on your tongue, and coming home looking like you’ve wrestled with a muddy buffalo and lost.
My first rain ritual was, to get the tape recorder, place it on the top of the steps of our backyard, play chak dhum dhum song and dance in the rain, i did that for years, lol and later it was getting together with my girlies and roaming in the rain..going on long drives…pure joy!
Cut to today, and rain has acquired an entirely different meaning.
Now, when dark clouds gather, my first thought isn’t about paper boats. It’s about the clothes hanging on the balcony. Did they dry? Should I run and bring them in? Will they now spend another two days smelling faintly damp? Rain now means traffic jams, delayed deliveries, muddy shoes, cancelled plans, and wondering whether the internet will survive another thunderstorm. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood, rain stopped being an event and became a logistical challenge.
But the funny thing is, the rain hasn’t changed at all.
The same rain that once made us dance in the streets is the rain that now makes us check weather forecasts. The same rain that filled us with excitement is the rain that makes us mentally calculate drying times for school uniforms. What changed was us.
And maybe that’s why we spend so much time talking about our childhoods. It’s not that life was necessarily easier. Looking back now, I realise that while I was happily floating paper boats, my parents were probably dealing with a completely different version of the same rainy day. The rain that gave me joy probably made my father late for work. It probably meant extra laundry for my mother, muddy floors to clean, leaking windows to manage, and a dozen small inconveniences I never noticed.
That’s the beauty of childhood. Someone else carries the responsibility so that you can carry the joy.
As teenagers, rain transformed once again. Suddenly, it became dramatic. Every Bollywood song made more sense. Every crush felt more intense. Every heartbreak seemed deeper when viewed through a rain-streaked window. We would stare outside pretending we were the main character in a movie, convinced that the weather somehow understood our emotions. Rain became less about puddles and more about feelings.
Then came college, and rain became synonymous with chai and coffee. It meant long conversations under tiny canopies, Maggie time on my friends terrace, sharing, bunking lectures, and walking through the rain because looking cool somehow felt more important than staying dry. Rain became tied to friendships, freedom, and memories that would later become stories
As adults, however, rain often arrives carrying reminders of responsibility. For adults, it means revising thier schedule, wondering if school buses will be delayed, and hoping everyone reaches home safely. The same rain that once represented freedom now often represents planning.
Yet every year, when the first monsoon shower arrives and that familiar smell of wet earth fills the air, something unexpected happens. For a few moments, we are transported back in time. We remember old houses, old roads, old friends. We remember mothers calling us inside, fathers returning home with dripping umbrellas, and afternoons that seemed to last forever. Rain has an incredible ability to unlock memories that have quietly been sitting in a corner of our minds. It reminds us not just of places, but of versions of ourselves.
Perhaps that’s the real gift of rain. Every year, it returns. And with it, it brings back little pieces of every version of ourselves we have ever been. The child jumping in puddles. The teenager staring out of windows. The college student sipping chai with friends. they’re all still there, hidden somewhere beneath the responsibilities, grocery lists, deadlines, and school schedules.
Maybe that’s why, even today, when it starts raining, a tiny part of us still smiles. The rain remains the same year after year, but each time it arrives, it meets a different version of us. For years, I thought I missed rainy days from my childhood. But maybe I don’t miss the rain, maybe I miss being the person who could find an entire afternoon’s happiness in a puddle. Well, wishing all of us at least one puddle-jumping moment this season, and the kind of joy that doesn’t need a reason.
Below is the screenshot of an very old post of mine, probably the last time i danced in the rain, and the post turned out to be a inspiration to write this blog 🙂
Love & Ice creams
Sneha Singhvi
