It was the kind of day when even the dogs in the village were lying down under the shade, their tongues hanging out as if they’d surrendered to the heat. The sun blazed down relentlessly, and the earth seemed to be sizzling beneath the scorching rays. Every step outside felt like walking into an oven.
In a small village near the river, a boy named Ayuu sat on the cool cement floor of his house, gazing at the mango trees that looked like they were about to faint from the heat. His mother was inside, busy preparing pakhala, while his sister waved a patta lazily, trying to keep the sweat at bay. The whole village felt like it was in slow motion.
Then, something changed.
At first, it was just a light breeze, barely enough to move the dusty air. But then the wind picked up, growing stronger and faster, as if the earth had remembered the dance of the clouds. The trees began to sway, their branches shaking like they were trying to escape the heat. The leaves whispered to each other, and Ayuu felt the change in the air.
Suddenly, he jumped to his feet.
“Barsha asila, Barsha asila!” Ayuu shouted, running out of the house without a second thought. He didn’t wait for his mother’s warning. He could already see it—the Kalbaisakhi storm was on its way.
The wind howled, the clouds gathered, and before anyone could blink, the sky split open with a loud crack of thunder. The first raindrop hit Ayuu's cheek, and he laughed in delight.
The rain didn’t come softly. It came in torrents, pounding the earth as if it had been waiting to burst free. The wind was playful, tossing everything in its path—banana leaves, clothes on the line, even a few stray dogs that hurried to find shelter.
Ayuu ran into the field, arms wide, feeling the rain soak him through. He spun around in circles, laughing as the wind tried to knock him over. The village, usually quiet and still, had come alive. People rushed out of their homes, their faces lit up with joy, even though their clothes were soaked.
“Ayuu! Come inside!” his mother called from the door, but Ayuu was already lost in the storm. He didn’t want to miss a moment of it. He danced through the rain, his bare feet splashing in the puddles, his hair a mess of wet curls.
The storm wasn’t just rain—it was a celebration, a reminder of the earth’s power and beauty. Ayuu could hear his neighbors calling out to each other, laughing, and shouting in the wind. For once, the village felt full of life.
As the rain began to slow, Ayuu stopped and stood still, taking a deep breath. The air had changed. The earth smelled fresh and alive, like it had taken a long, deep sigh of relief. The trees stood tall, their branches still swaying in the last whispers of the wind.
Ayuu looked up at the sky, which was clearing, revealing a soft blue that promised more rain tomorrow. He grinned, already looking forward to the next Kalbaisakhi, knowing that the storm always brought the village together.
And next time, Ayuu promised himself, he’d catch that flying leaf.
