When I was six, I remember getting a 10/10 in some inconsequential English test. It wasn’t Science or Maths. Of course it was inconsequential.

It was raining very, very heavily as the teacher handed out our little one-page answer sheets. A 10/10 was always nice, but all I could think about was the rain, and what it would feel like to stand out in the open corridor. My brain simply refused to think about anything else — I loved the Mangalore rains with everything I had. I was always the last one in when we were called to class after it began to rain. My favourite song was Rhythm of the Rain, by The Cascades.

No wonder I was love-struck. It had never rained like that before at school, and in the ten years that I attended, it never did again.

I wanted to be out in the corridor so, so bad. Through the window, I could see thick, grey blankets of rain shivering animatedly across the low light. The teacher, done with distributing the sheets, strictly instructed the class monitor not to let anyone out, and left.

I could have screamed. I was so excited. I got up from my bench, and shot my hand into the air. Thaiseer, the class monitor, came over. I grabbed my crotch and jumped around, half-crazy. I pretended to be so excited about my test results, that I could not hold in my pee. Thaiseer laughed a kind laugh and let me leave. Look at the muggu go.

It was the most beautiful experience the muggu had ever had.

I took my own sweet time.

I walked as slow as I could, up and down the corridor, my face turned deliberately into the spray of the rain. The wind was howling its guts out. Every tree around looked like it was disintegrating into itself. The rain was coming through the rectangular gaps in the corridor in cold, nearly-horizontal gusts. The wind was so strong that it came very close to picking me up and flinging me against the wall. Almost. When this plan failed, it cut through me with little tickling kisses that my skin remembers even now. It was heaven, pure heaven. I came back completely drenched, grinning like an idiot. I felt no shame whatsoever.

It was the happiest I ever got to be as a child. It was also the first time I realised that lying could have its benefits.