Raindrops Embracing the Village

Soft grey clouds hung over the little village like a cozy blanket. It was early afternoon when the first raindrops began to fall, slowly tapping on the clay rooftops. The air smelled fresh, like wet earth and blooming grass. People paused whatever they were doing and looked up at the sky, smiling. Rain in the village was always a special moment.

Sahar, a young girl of twelve, stood near the wooden window of her family’s small house. She wore a colorful scarf and a simple dress. As she watched the rain, her eyes sparkled with joy. She loved how the raindrops danced on the leaves and how small rivers formed along the muddy paths. It felt like the village was singing a soft song only she could hear.

Outside, the narrow streets turned brown and slippery, but that didn’t stop the children. Groups of kids ran around barefoot, laughing and splashing water everywhere. Their laughter mixed with the soft drumming of rain, creating music more beautiful than any instrument. Little puddles formed in every corner, reflecting the cloudy sky above.

Old trees around the village seemed happier too, their leaves shining with drops of silver. Birds took shelter under branches, shaking their wings and chirping gently. Far off, in the green fields, farmers covered their heads with shawls and continued working. Some carried baskets full of fresh vegetables, while others simply stood there, enjoying the cool rain on their faces.

Sahar decided to go outside. She stepped into the yard, feeling the cool raindrops on her skin. She lifted her face toward the sky and closed her eyes. The rain kissed her cheeks, and a soft breeze played with her hair. She twirled around, arms open wide, as if hugging the whole world. Her laughter rang out, clear and sweet.

Nearby, her grandmother, Bibi, sat on the porch, weaving a colorful rug. Bibi was old and gentle, with silver hair and kind eyes. She smiled as she watched Sahar dance. The rain reminded Bibi of her childhood, many years ago, when she too would play in the rain without a care.

“Sahar!” Bibi called out. “Be careful not to slip, my child!”

Sahar giggled. “I’m fine, Bibi. The rain feels so nice!”

Bibi nodded. “Rain is a gift from Allah. It cleans the earth, waters the crops, and fills our hearts with peace.”

Across the village, women stood at their doors, watching the rain. Some carried big metal pots to catch the water for washing or cooking. The rain was precious here, especially after many dry weeks. Even the animals seemed happier. Cows shook their wet hides, and goats bleated softly.

A sweet smell rose from the wet ground. The village seemed alive, its colors brighter, the leaves greener. The mountains in the distance were hidden by soft mist, giving the world a magical look. Everything felt quiet and peaceful, as if time had slowed down just for this moment.

Later, the rain began to slow. The clouds grew lighter, and beams of golden sunlight peeked through. Water dripped from the edges of roofs like silver strings. Birds flew out again, singing loudly as if thanking the sky.

Sahar returned to the house, her dress wet but her heart happy. She sat beside Bibi, who hugged her close. Together, they watched the last drops fall and felt the cool breeze blow gently through the village.

“Rain makes everything new,” Bibi whispered. “It reminds us that even after the driest days, blessings will come.”

Sahar smiled and leaned her head on Bibi’s shoulder. Outside, the village glowed under a fresh, clean sky, waiting for new stories to begin.