The mind that does not want to enter school on a rainy day

I just wanted to look back on some of the things that I had done going to school on a rainy day.

My memory goes back to the days when I would argue with my mom and vehemently reject her plea for carrying the raincoat with me, complaining to her that there isn't enough space in my backpack. The truth was, when I stuffed this huge raincoat into my bag, it used to look like as though I was carrying the whole world on my shoulders and so I preferred to drench myself in the rain than to provide the cute girls with a glimpse of this huge bag on my back spoiling my image. I had immense faith in Zeus that he would not cry.

The moment I slid my motorcycle down the slope of my house, I had this crazy feeling as though I was free from my ever bickering mom and strangely so all my friends would echo my thought. I would just vrooomm my bike in front of my mom, so that her BP just hits the peak - my way of letting her know "STOP SHOUTING AT ME". En-route, I would meet my friends who would wait in their homes just to hear a honk from me (in those days these little horns had unique sounds that were used as signals for everything - starting from bringing my friend out of their homes when the entire family was asleep on a Sunday afternoon to getting a lovely stare from the girls we used to love (seldom did they)).

And our motorcade would increase in breadth as we add more friends on our way, adding to the frustration of all other people who used the road. We used to swarm the entire half of the road preventing anyone to overtake us. This journey to school used to be the best part of the whole day, a talking plank, a group discussion filled with laughter, joy, happiness, and not for a moment I could even imagine my mind thinking of anything out of context other than turning our heads on either side to crack all the naughtiest jokes that exist on earth, applauding each other for the jokes they cracked, and occasionally pulling each other down just for fun.

Mostly it would not rain on our way to school, may be the rain god thought why drench them with water when the teachers are eagerly waiting to drench with loads of lessons.

I always would wonder why girls looked a touch brighter and prettier on a rainy day under the gloomy skies and this natural or supernatural or school boys' illusionary phenomenon would result in us spending more time than we usually did to get a glimpse (A Sweet Darshan) of every girl whom we used to see, almost daily. This would also spark a debate amongst us on whether it should rain daily or not because if it rains daily we would not be in a position to gauge the prettiness of a girl, which would spell doom on the effective rating system that we had followed all these days, and my data will be skewed.

With the pleasant smell of rain in the offing and with the mind in a fix not knowing whether it is fresh from the Darshan or dull portraying all the somber colors of a gloomy day, the leg not willing to step foot into the school, the hand not letting the brakes go, the eyes not willing to focus on the books, and with the entire human system not willing to cooperate with the educational system, we enter the school with a lot of pain when it is about to rain.