The Bicycle I Left in the Monsoon

As a child, I loved the rains. The first drops meant freedom—the chance to run outside barefoot, splash in puddles, and most of all, ride my bicycle through the empty streets. The rain didn’t slow me down; it made the world feel alive. Every drop that hit my skin felt like laughter from the sky, and every puddle was an adventure waiting to happen.

But now, when the monsoon arrives, the excitement doesn’t come with it. Instead, I find myself retreating indoors, watching the rain from behind a window. My bicycle waits quietly in the corner, and I hesitate to ride it out. What if the roads are too slippery? What if I fall? What if the joy I’m searching for doesn’t come back? The same rain that once pulled me out into the world now feels like a weight keeping me inside.

As children, we live less in fear of consequences. The rain was just rain—something to enjoy, not something to measure against risks. As adults, we carry a sharper awareness. We think of dangers, responsibilities, and everything that could go wrong. That awareness protects us, but it also steals from us.

And then there’s the rain itself. Grey skies stretch for days, sunlight fades, and with it, so does a certain brightness in mood. Reduced light lowers serotonin, making lethargy and sadness more common. It’s no surprise that the monsoon sometimes feels heavy not only outside but within.

Yet the rain also carries memories. The smell of wet soil, the rhythm of raindrops—they take me back to those childhood rides, those moments of pure, unfiltered joy. Nostalgia is tricky that way. It warms and hurts at the same time. It shows me who I was, and reminds me that I am no longer the same.

So the monsoon has become bittersweet for me. It is both comfort and discomfort, joy and melancholy. It brings life to the world, but stirs heaviness in my mind.

Maybe that’s the truth about rain: it reflects not only the sky above but also the weather within us. Some seasons are meant for splashing through puddles. Others are meant for sitting by the window, listening, remembering, and quietly feeling everything the rain awakens.