The author reflects on the rain, on God and the nature of life, on becoming an older sister and the pandemic EMPEROR MONSOON The rain looks like crystallized icicles falling in gray sheets from the sky. The earth moves with its impact. Every other sound is subdued, as if bowing down respectfully to Emperor Monsoon. I watch from the window of my grandparents’ home in the city of Ahmedabad, India. The plants dance as the cascade of water washes off layers of dust from their delicate leaves. The rains have breathed life into them. Green looks greener, grey looks greyer, red looks redder, white looks whiter. Water has colored the world. About a dozen langur monkeys are escaping into the branches before they are completely drenched, leaping from roof to roof, balcony to balcony, with confidence and ease. They never miss a step or make a mistake. Tiny baby monkeys clutch their mothers’ bellies. They do not have a care in the world. They are safe as they glide above the world with their family. The stray dogs scurry away as well. They welcome the cool water on their overheated backs but prefer the shaded garage or the space under the cars. They want to hear the rain and feel the earth cool off before they venture out again. I cannot resist feeling the rain on my skin. I skip to the patio and watch the drenched swing swinging gently by itself in the rain. Even the wood and metal on the swing seem grateful for the cool water on their burning bodies. I reach out and feel the drops on my palms. Slowly, I move forward beyond the shade of the patio and feel the rain thundering on my body. I feel like I am standing under a waterfall. I am completely wet in seconds. There is no stopping me now. I jump in the small puddles that rain has created on the patio, kick water into the air, and raise my face to the sky in utter delight. I skip, hop, and sing in the rain. DUTY  “Arjuna, everyone depending on his or her station in life has a certain dharma to perform. You are a warrior. Your Dharma is to fight for a righteous cause.”      — The Bhagavad Gita These words are spoken by Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita. The Bhagavad Gita (meaning “the song of God” in Sanskrit) is a Hindu scripture that is a part of the Mahabharata, an ancient Hindu epic. It is a conversation between Prince Arjuna, a Pandava prince, and Krishna, who is an avatar, or incarnation, of Lord Vishnu, one of three supreme and divine deities in Hinduism. My parents are atheists. They are raising my sister and me as atheists. This means that even though we celebrate many Hindu traditions and festivals, my parents do not believe in the existence of God. I have asked many times, ever since I was even younger than I am now, why they don’t believe in God. They reply matter-of-factly that there is no evidence or argument to suggest that any gods exist. They tell me that it is okay to believe in God, but that does not mean that there is a god. “Your beliefs don’t make things exist, or make them real,” they respond critically. What they say is discouraging for me. For many years, I had given up on these questions about God and just behaved like them. My grandparents, however, do believe in God. My trips to India over the years have given me a different perspective about this question. My grandparents pray in front of their temples in their homes every morning and evening. They light a lamp and incense stick and offer flowers and food to the deities. They sing Sanskrit hymns and meditate. Seeing their rituals and practices makes me wonder why my parents are atheists when they could be part of such beautiful and ancient customs and mythologies. I have asked my grandparents the same question: “Why do you believe in God?” My dadi (my father’s mother) told me that God is everywhere and God is within you. God is like a friend who is there to help you when you need it. That makes me wonder whether prayers have the power to help me through my problems. I have always been curious about these questions, and they have never really let me go. Since I had a lot of time and many things to worry about during the pandemic, I began to explore the many books we have on the topmost shelves of our house and to ask some new questions. Over the years, my grandparents have gifted me many books on Hindu mythology and philosophy. This spring and summer, I had the chance to dig into them. I think I have some new arguments for my parents after many hours of reading and thinking. Here they go: (1) There are many things that we don’t see, like our thoughts and feelings, but that does not mean they don’t exist. (2) I don’t think that every question should be answered with science. There are other types of knowledge in this world, like what you get by experiencing something. (3) It does not matter what you call God, or whether it has some form, or whether it exists. I think these are the wrong questions. I think a better question would be “What is God? What does it mean to you?” For me, hope, love, and courage are God. Reading these epics and mythological stories has opened my mind to new ways of seeing the world. They have changed my perspective. They have given me hope, courage, and perseverance that I never knew before. It makes me feel happier than without this hope, courage, and perseverance. For that reason, I want to believe in the existence of God. It is said in the Hindu scriptures that only if you open your mind to