The Rain

Walking up to Al Wadi for supper on the edge of a cloud. Finest light gerimis the Malays call drizzle, brought across on drifts of wind. Directly overhead good patches of bright blue (after 6pm too); on the other side of the road and further inland blanket grey that had developed over the previous hour. Over an hour the dark had been watched closing in from the hotel window, the dim light meaning eventually paper had needed to be brought to the window ledge. First rains, even heavy downpours, can often remain unsighted through the glass on the third level at Four Chain View. Rain was audible before it was visible in this back corner of Geylang. Once the suspicious sound was heard one needed to rise from the bed and look down onto the corner of the lane where a puddle quickly developed in a hollow in order to establish the matter. The pastel walls of the madrasa opposite, the condos further along and adjacent failed to betray rain. In the upper grades of primary school once a false report of an outing was unfolded one afternoon for the class during Show-and-tell. Everyone seemed to have a tale of some kind from weekend outings and holidays away. The Clearys spent each Christmas at Cobram, dux of the school had a retreat at Airey’s Inlet. Jamiesons was another other-worldly setting like in the story-books where the young adventurers roamed. One could not remain without all the long while. Somewhere the story of rain far away falling on one side of a road but not the other had been heard and with a little adaptation there was a fine tale of a trip outside the city that held the attention of the schoolroom and gave everyone something to marvel at and envy. A provisional falsehood.