I still remember that morning as if it happened yesterday. The sky was a dull grey, weighed down with heavy clouds that looked like they had been holding back tears for days. The air was thick—the kind that clings to your skin and your thoughts. Summer had overstayed its welcome; weeks of scorching heat, dusty winds, and restless nights had taken a toll on everything and everyone. The plants were tired, the birds quieter, and even the people seemed to move slower, caught in the weight of endless heat.
Then, that day, it rained.
It started with a single drop. Just one. I noticed it while standing near the kitchen window, a steaming cup of chai in my hands. It fell silently onto the parched ground, leaving a tiny dark spot on the sunbaked earth. Within moments, more followed—a sudden burst, as if the sky couldn’t hold back any longer.
And it wasn’t just a mild drizzle. It poured. Fiercely. Loudly. Freely. The kind of rain that silences everything else—the honks, the hum of machines, the noise in your head. I stood there, wide-eyed and still, just watching. Then, something unexpected happened.
I opened the door and stepped out into the downpour.
The cool raindrops kissed my skin, and a chill ran down my spine. I could smell the mitti—the fresh scent of wet soil that only the first rain brings. A scent that carries memories, dreams, and forgotten parts of ourselves. I walked to the garden, barefoot, like a child who didn’t care about mud or mess. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting the rain wash over me.
It felt like the universe had hit a reset button.
That rain didn’t just change the weather. It changed me. Somewhere between the raindrops, I let go of the heaviness I had been carrying—worries about tomorrow, regrets from yesterday, the constant buzz of “what ifs” and “not enoughs.” I didn’t realize how much I had bottled up until the rain showed me it was okay to let it all fall.
Later that afternoon, I found my old journal—the one I had abandoned many months ago. I brushed off the dust, opened a fresh page, and began to write. Slowly at first, then freely, like the rain. I wrote about things I never said out loud. I wrote about dreams I’d tucked away, and fears I never admitted. The pages didn’t judge. They simply held my truth.
Something shifted inside me that day. I messaged an old friend I hadn’t spoken to in over a year. I smiled at the milkman and actually asked how his day was going. I helped a stray kitten stuck near our gate. Small things, really—but they made the day feel lighter, kinder, more alive.
It’s strange how one simple thing, like rain, can change everything.
Not in some grand, magical way, but in the quietest, most powerful way possible. It reminded me that life doesn’t need big answers or perfect moments. Sometimes, all it needs is a pause—a chance to breathe, to feel, to begin again.
And so, the day it rained, everything changed.
Not because the world around me transformed completely, but because I did. Something inside me softened, opened, and found the courage to hope again.
That day, I learned that even the most tired hearts can bloom again, if given a little rain.
Image Courtesy: https://www.pexels.com/@le-d-c-khanh-701416308/
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– Dr. Arwa Saifi
About the Writer
Dr. Arwa Saifi is an acclaimed Career Writer with over 18 years of experience in the literary and education space. Honoured with an Honorary Doctorate in Literature, she is also an Amazon #1 Bestselling Author. Her career includes contributions to Education Times, a supplement of The Times of India, where she brought her expertise to one of the country’s leading newspapers.
Dr. Saifi has served as the editor of several prestigious school and college magazines in Mumbai, shaping young voices and nurturing a culture of expression. She is the author of 10 published books and has collaborated as a co-author in more than 40 anthologies. Her work reflects a deep commitment to storytelling, education, and empowering aspiring writers.
