Raindrops and Resolutions: A Story of Studying in Stormy Weather.

Raindrops and Resolutions: A Story of Studying in Stormy Weather

The skies were heavy with grey clouds, the air filled with the scent of damp earth. The monsoon had arrived, and with it, the comforting yet chaotic rhythm of rain. For most people, rain meant cozy blankets, hot tea, and long naps. But for 17-year-old Areeba, the stormy weather brought something else entirely — a test of her determination to succeed.

Areeba lived in a modest home in Lahore, where the tin roof made every raindrop sound like a drumbeat of distraction. Her small room doubled as a study corner, a makeshift classroom, and sometimes even her escape from the overwhelming world outside. With her intermediate board exams only weeks away, every minute of study counted — and the rain wasn’t helping.

Each day began early. As the city stirred under wet skies, Areeba would open her worn notebook and begin reviewing chemistry formulas or solving math problems. But the storm wasn’t just outside; it was within too — distractions, power cuts, and even a leaky ceiling that dripped exactly above her study chair.

“Why can’t the weather ever just stay dry during exams?” she muttered, sliding her table to avoid the growing puddle.

Her younger brother, Daniyal, giggled from the other room, playing with his paper boats. Her mother was busy in the kitchen boiling chai, and the aroma wafted into Areeba’s room, calling her like a warm hug. But she stayed seated, highlighter in hand, eyes locked on her textbook.

Rain is both a blessing and a burden, she thought. Farmers loved it, poets romanticized it, but students? Students wrestled with it.

Still, Areeba had a dream — to become a doctor. A dream not stitched from fantasy, but from memories of her father coughing late at night, unable to afford good treatment. She wanted to bring healing to homes like hers. And if she had to study through thunder, candlelight, and the distraction of a hundred rain songs outside, so be it.

That evening, as lightning streaked across the sky and power went out once again, she lit a candle and opened her biology book. Her hand trembled slightly from the cold, but her eyes were alive with focus. Her mother brought her a plate of hot pakoras and a cup of steaming tea.

“Take a break, beti. Too much study in this weather will make you sick.”

Areeba smiled, dipped a pakora in chutney, and replied, “Just five more pages, Ammi. Then I’ll eat properly.”

Her mother placed a shawl around her shoulders and left, silently proud.

The rain pounded louder, and in the candle’s flickering light, Areeba’s thoughts danced between mitochondria diagrams and motivational quotes she’d scribbled in her diary:

“A storm is just the sky reminding you to be strong.”

Some days were harder. Internet failures made online classes impossible. Tutors cancelled sessions due to waterlogged streets. But Areeba adapted. She recorded her voice explaining concepts and listened to them while doing chores. She converted distractions into discipline.

One night, the storm was particularly violent. Wind lashed against windows, and thunder shook the very walls. Daniyal crawled into her bed, scared. Areeba closed her books and held his hand.

“Don’t be scared,” she whispered. “The rain is loud, but it will pass.”

He nodded and asked, “Will you still study when it rains like this?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “Because the rain reminds me I can’t wait for perfect days. Dreams are built in all kinds of weather.”

Weeks passed. The monsoon gradually softened. Flowers bloomed on the balcony. And Areeba’s room was brighter — not because of the sunlight, but because of what she had built inside herself: discipline, focus, and hope.

The exam days arrived. She walked to the center under a cloudy sky, but her mind was clear. She remembered every moment she had fought to study — every power outage, every cold night, every storm that couldn’t stop her.

Months later, when results came out, she sat in the same corner. Rain drizzled softly on the roof. Her fingers trembled as she opened the result portal. And there it was — distinction in all subjects. She cried, not because of the marks, but because of the journey.

Her mother hugged her. “You did it, beti. You studied through storms, and now the sun is yours.”

Areeba looked out at the rain and whispered, “Thank you.”

Moral of the Story:

Rain can be a distraction, but it can also be a teacher. In the rhythm of the storm, there is a beat of determination. When we stop waiting for perfect conditions and start using what we have, even the cloudiest days can lead to the brightest futures.