August 19, 2025

I had always loved the rainy season. In my village, rain was not just a season; it was a whole story. When the monsoon clouds came, everything changed, especially for those of us living surrounded by the forest and the arca nut farms.

Every year, around June, dark clouds gathered above our small village. The first drops began to fall, softly at first, then louder and heavier. I always waited for that first smell of rain on the dry mud. It was a smell that only people in villages knew well, wet earth, fresh leaves, and something magical in the air.

As the rains started, our daily life transformed. School never got closed, and I never got to stay home unlike the present days in the coastal area. It was awesome to watch the rain falling like silver threads from our front porch. My mother made hot tea or coffee, and eatables made out of jackfruits and sweet potatoes. We as children sat together, watching the water gently trickle off the roof and savouring the rainy season edibles. It was so peaceful.

When school was open, getting there was its own adventure.

Our school was not just down the road. It was a good far walk away, through narrow village paths, fields, and sometimes along muddy tracks. Every morning, I put on my blue and white uniform, my so called ‘formal slippers’, and the raincoat that was supposed to keep me dry. The raincoat never remained new. It gave in after a few uses. We could not afford new ones every year. But it was the best protection I had.

That year, the rain fell heavy, almost endless. Walking to school meant getting soaked no matter what. The raincoat was a joke. Water slipped through the holes like it was invited in. My feet, however, were the worst. I only had plastic slippers, which meant I slipped often, and my feet got wet and cold.

The journey started early. I stepped out into the rain, holding a big umbrella if the wind allowed, or sometimes no umbrella at all. The sky was gray, the wind wild, and the rain did not care if I was a schoolboy or a farmer. I remember water gathering in dips along the path, little streams forming where dry floor once stood. Sometimes, frogs jumped around me, happy in the wet playground.

I splashed through puddles, careful not to lose my slippers. My uniform stuck to my skin by the time I reached the road. My hair dripped wet, and my face was cold. That was the walk to school.

Our parish school was managed by nuns. They wore habits and soft smiles on their faces. They were strict but kind and especially concerned about us during monsoon. The moment I stepped inside, one nun noticed my soaked looks. She came over quickly. She had soft wrinkled hands and a warm voice.

“Come, child, sit here,” she said, leading me to a small corner with a dry towel. She wiped the raindrops from my hair and face and helped me settle down in the classroom. Other children came in dripping wet too; some carried broken umbrellas, others with soggy books.

This holy nun smiled and said, “Rain brings life, but it can also bring troubles.” She understood exactly what it meant to walk through muddy paths in a torn raincoat. She even let us dry ourselves.

Despite all the help, the raincoat never worked well. When water poured through the holes, my clothes underneath became wet, heavy and cold. Sitting for hours in wet uniforms was uncomfortable and sometimes, embarrassing. But the nuns never let us feel ashamed. Instead, they told stories to distract us and helped keep our spirits high.

After the school bell rang at the end of the day, I packed my things and got ready to walk home through the village paths. The rain had not stopped; it still drizzled gently, making everything slick and shiny. To save time, I decided to take a shortcut through the arca nut farm near our house.

The farm, which was usually just a cluster of green trees, had turned into a watery swamp after days of heavy rain. Water filled the low spots, and the muddy ground was soft and slippery. The tall arca nut trees dripped with weighty rain droplets, leaves covered in wetness, and the whole place smelled of fresh earth mixed with something wild.

As I balanced carefully on a dry patch, I suddenly felt a cold, slimy touch brush against my left leg. I looked down just in time to see a quick flash of brown and black scales slither away through the wet leaves.

I froze.

My heart hammered like a drum. I screamed and ran as fast as my soaked slippers could carry me, splashing through the puddles and mud on my way home. My raincoat-soaked water through the holes, my wet clothes clung to my skin, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was that slippery snake!

I reached the safety of our yard, panting and trembling.

My mother stared at me wide-eyed.

“A snake touched you? How did you not see it?” she asked, alarmed.

“I tried, but it was too fast,” I gasped.

My father chuckled softly, “At least you still have both legs, so that’s good and nothing happened, chill!”

I stayed away from the farm for some days after that.

That rainy season taught me many things. It showed me the beauty of the village in the monsoon, the smell of the earth, the sounds of frogs, the joy of splashing in puddles. It also showed me the power of nature, the floods, the slippery grounds, and the hidden dangers like snakes.

I learned how kind and loving nuns were. Despite the rainy chaos, they cared for us deeply. I still remembered those warm hands wiping my wet hair and telling me stories to calm my nerves.

And I learned that sometimes, the raincoat wasn’t magic. No matter how hard I tried, if it had holes, I would get wet.

Years have passed since that rainy season. Every monsoon reminds me of my wet journey to school, the holes in my raincoat, and the scary snake in the farm. Sometimes, when my friends talk about snakes or show snake pictures, I feel that old fear creeping back.

And here’s the best part, now, whenever I see a snake, even a little one - guess what happens?

I don’t just get scared. I rain in my pants!

Yes, you heard that right. I rain in my pants.

So, all these years later, when it rains, it pours... but when I see snakes, it rains in my pants!