When it rains, it pours.

People say "When it rains, it pours" in negative reflection towards life. Like most people, I did the same until recently during one of the past gloomy days, I experienced a moment which caused me to look at the expression in an angle that I never thought possible.


So there it was. The first exam of my A Level exams. Chemistry 6. Friday the 14th of May. Thursday I had come home from class and I planned to get some good eight hours of sleep before my impending exams.

Let's just that THAT plan shot down faster that a meteorite hurtling towards the Earth at blinding speeds. The nerve wracking onset of exams brought on the reminder that I was totally unprepared for the exam. After 3 hours of attempting to cram in chemical tests for Sulfite and memorizing diagrams of reflux condensers and round bottomed flasks, I gave up.

Upon switching on the tv, I flipped through the cable channels until I discovered that Fox Crime was airing Numbers 2. Needless to stay, stop drop and roll automatically played it self. I stopped at the channel, dropped what I was doing and rolled on the bed and to make myself comfortable. It's a thing with me you know.. this whole forensic-slash-crime programmes. I'm a right real sucker for them.

And so the night went on. Oh, it was raining in torrents, but that made me so much more in to it as I watched episode upon episode of Dexter, Castle, Bones, CSI: NY, CSI, CSI: Miami, Numbers, Underbelly, Brotherhood, MacGuyver and Family Guy. And I kept telling myself, "Okay, one more episode and study again".

Yeah right.

Next thing I know, it's 7.23 am and I am falling asleep.

I woke up to my father screeching and remembered that I had an exam. I barely made it to the car at 10.30 for the exam that was starting at 11.30 at BMICH.

The entire section of the road towards Kanatta, Devi Balika and Colombo 7 was flooded thanks to the fantastic drainage system of our country. By the time we made it out of traffic, it was 11.33 am and neither my father nor I were talking to each other.

That's when the Fates decided that I needed a jog.

Yes, a jog.

So I had to run all the way from the BMICH main gate to this dinky hall tucked ALL the way in the opposite side of the BMICH grounds, splattered in mud, drenched in rain, all in the name of the Chemistry paper. I was feeling very kindly towards Fates at that moment.

I barely made it to the hall and thankfully the exam was starting at 12.00 due to transport issues because of the bad weather.

So after freezing for nearly two hours in a hall and writing nothing but lies in the paper [my parents will be SO proud], I exited the hall, thinking "Thank God".
I expected my father to be in the car park. And he tells me he just got home when I called him. I snapped. I screamed at my father, screamed a little less louder at my mother who seemed to empathize with me for some incane reason and I decided that I might as well walk to the main gate so that I can be there when the car arrives.

So I started walking. It was slightly chilly, the wind was cool, but frankly it was a pleasant day, so muhc better from all the heat we witnessed weeks back. It was also drizzling very light. So light that it was almost a fog. It really wasn't a bad day.

And that's when it started to rain.

Oh no, not the little splatter we call rain drops.

Buckets, no, tanks full of water just poured down from the sky. Where was I? Right SMACK in the middle of the cement roadway with no shelter nor umbrella. I tried sheltering under a tree, which helped a lot, really.

Not.

This is about when I lost it. I completely lost it. I remembered that when I was a kid, I used to love being in the rain even though my mother would whisk me inside before I even got my slippers wet. So here was my chance after years. No one was watching. "Take it take it" said a voice in my head. Maybe it was a sign of sleep deprivation, but take it I did. I stepped out to the rain and held out my hands and let it soothe me.
The next thing I know, a really really tall guy with black rimmed glasses in standing next to me doing the same thing. He was a million feet tall and skinny as a stick. Quite a scene it would have been, the short chubby girl and the tall skinny guy, standing in the rain.

And then I started singing "Sweet Home Alabama". Out loud. Yes. The guy stared at me, smiled and he too started singing. Of course, it was nothing compared to Lynrd Skynrd but we did do a decent, pro-karaoke job, screaming "Lord I'm coming home to youuuuuuuu!". It was a true Bollywood moment. I was soaked to the skin, so was he, rain was dripping off our hair and noses, but it was the best thing I have done in a long time. I did not care that a man passing by stared. I was happy. I was trully ecstatic.

When I got home, my clothes were still wet but my hair was dry and the rain water had somehow made my hair into the curly ringlets that my boyfriend always plays with. They were perfect. When I checked my phone, there was a message from the man himself saying "I love you soft girl".
Changing into dry, warm clothes, I stood near one of the French windows in the hall and watched the rain come down. The trees were strung out, the dogs were curled up into balls, the father was couting mangoes to see how many I've eaten without prior permission.


It was a beautiful day.

When it rains... it pours. I am glad it did.