Jhaal Muri.

I remember in my old village house when I use to go on vacation. 

And it use to rain and the air filled with the fresh smell of the moist land. 

My father used to sit with his brothers talking about the village. 

My mother talking with aunties about my mischiefs and asking how to manage. 

My sisters and I used to sit with grandma to hear her stories. 

She not only said stories but also made sure our stomachs are full. 

She used to chop onions, chilies, and cucumber and mix them with puffed rice. 

She used to make ' Jhaal Muri ' with raw oil smearing on them. 

And shaking them in a jar making a silly song on the spot with the beat. 

Making little cones with paper she would pour the ' jhaal muri ' in them. 

Then Serving us with a glass of tea those are some solid memories for me. 

Rain is ' Jhaal muri ' and tea for me and I still get them whenever I go to visit her. 

She still lovingly makes them for me and that's how I enjoy the rain. 

That's how a rainy day works for me.