A day from my childhood I’ll never forget
Raindrops trickled down the windowsill, and the road outside lay quiet, except for the occasional car splashing through puddles. Somewhere in the distance, frogs croaked, adding to the rainy morning’s melody. The room was dim, even though it was already morning, and I was still lost in the last remains of peaceful sleep.
Suddenly, a familiar hand whisked me out of bed and the gentle jingle of bangles told me it was my mom. I whimpered, trying in vain to cling to my dreams, but she carried me to the bathroom, where she patiently stood by as I reluctantly brushed my teeth.
Mom then washed my face with warm water, led me to the sofa in the living room, and handed me a warm cup of milk before hurrying back to the kitchen. I never liked the bland taste of milk, but I knew there was no escaping it. I sipped half-heartedly, then spent the rest of the time spinning the empty glass until it was time to get ready.
My dad was busy getting dressed for work as my mom bathed me in warm water and dressed me in my navy-blue school uniform. The scent of the freshly washed fabric reminded me of the homework I’d conveniently forgotten to complete. It was too late now, so I decided to keep it to myself for the time being.
As Mom combed my hair, I watched her graceful hands, her soft cotton saree brushing against me, her bindi perfectly placed on her forehead, and her earrings swaying gently with every movement. To me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
She then made me sit in the living room on my mini chair and placed a plate with a couple of rice cakes on the tray. She sat beside me, knowing I couldn’t be trusted to eat by myself. Dad came out dressed in his formals, sat on the sofa and switched on the TV to listen to the morning news.
I secretly hoped the rain would mean a school holiday, but the news anchor crushed my dreams. The rain was expected to continue for days, but there was no mention of schools closing.
By the time Dad turned off the TV, I realized my plate was empty. Mom had cleverly fed me while I was distracted. She smiled, victorious as always.
Soon, Dad packed his lunchbox and files, ready to leave for work. Mom debated whether to put a raincoat on me. Dad, frustrated, teased her: “At this rate, we’ll leave by evening!” Finally, she decided against it, and Dad started his scooter while I got onto my seat in the front and waved goodbye to Mom.
Just then, a loud rumble of thunder startled Mom. She called me back, quickly put on my raincoat, and sent me off again with another proud smile. We rode through the wet roads towards my school.
I got down from the scooter as the road was filled with parents with umbrellas and kids in raincoats. It was then I realized I’d forgotten my school bag at home in the rush of putting on the raincoat. It was my first time committing this “crime,” and I tried to win Dad over with an innocent look.
“You go to class; I’ll bring your bag,” he said, suppressing his frustration. I nodded, grateful for his patience. He left and I turned around to walk into the school, probably the only kid in the crowd without a school bag.
The rain intensified as I joined my classmates. Everyone was excitedly chatting about movies, toys, and their least favorite teachers. I nervously waited, wondering if Dad would return in time.
Then, the teacher entered, strict as ever, and announced she’d be checking homework later. My heart sank.
But moments later, the office attendant walked in with a note. The teacher read it aloud: “The government has just now declared today and tomorrow a holiday due to heavy rain.”
The class erupted in cheers, and I was the loudest of them all. We weren’t allowed to leave until our parents arrived. Everyone started planning how they wanted to spend the next two days. My friends eagerly decided to gather at my house later in the evening for board games—a choice I knew was less about the games and more about my mom’s famously delicious cookies.
Soon the attendant came back and called my name, as my dad was already waiting outside.
As I walked out, he joked, “Forgot your bag, huh?”
“I never brought one,” I replied with a grin.
He patted me on the head jokingly as he led me outside, where my dad was waiting on his scooter. A broad smile broke on his face as he saw me walking out happily, as if I were the king of the world. I happily climbed back into the front seat as we treaded through the same route towards my home.
When we got home, Mom scolded me for forgetting my bag, but I was too thrilled about the unexpected holiday to care. Dad left for work despite the rain—something I didn’t understand then.
I spent the rest of the day running around, playing with my toys, and enjoying every moment. Eventually, I collapsed on the sofa, exhausted but happy.
Mom carried me to bed, the sound of her bangles pushing me into a deep sleep. I went into a deep slumber waiting to be awakened by my friends for the board game.
Life was simple and beautiful back then—a memory etched forever in my heart.