Aahana's Rainbow Chart
A personalised storybook starring Aahana, age 6
On her birthday morning, six-year-old Aahana starts a two-line chart on the fridge — blue for rainy mornings, grey for dry ones — after hearing the monsoon rains are starting to leave. Over one joyful day of birthday moments, she watches the sky, counts her last few rains, and discovers the quiet, small way a season says goodbye.
Aahana woke up on her birthday. Rain tapped the window, soft and slow. Amma said, 'The rains are leaving soon.' Aahana sat up fast. 'Leaving? Where do they go?' She grabbed a marker and ran to the fridge. She drew two lines, side by side. One for blue rainy days. One for grey dry ones.
Page 1
'The news says rain says bye-bye on the nineteenth,' Papa said. Aahana counted on her fingers. Four more days. She marked a blue dot for today's rain. 'I want to catch every last one,' she said. Papa smiled and handed her a cup of warm milk. Outside, the sky was still soft and wet and grey.
Page 2
After breakfast, her friends came for cake and games. They ran into the garden between showers. Aahana looked up at the clouds. 'One more blue dot!' she said, pointing at fat drops falling. Her friend Riya laughed and spun with her arms out. They got soaked and giggly, then dried off on the porch swing.
Page 3
That afternoon, the sun peeked out for the first time all week. Aahana frowned at the sky. 'That's a grey day,' she said, even though it was bright. Amma explained, 'Grey means no rain, not no sun.' Aahana marked a grey line. Two blue, one grey. The greys were catching up already.
Page 4
That evening, Aahana pressed her nose to the window, waiting. No rain came. She sighed and drew another grey line. Three greys now, only two blues. 'Maybe the rain forgot my birthday,' she said quietly. Papa sat beside her. 'The monsoon doesn't stop all at once,' he said. 'It just gets smaller and quieter, then fades.'
Page 5
The next morning, Aahana woke to a strange, tiny sound. Not thunder, not a downpour — just a soft drizzle, light as a whisper on the roof. She had expected a big, loud storm for her last rain. Instead it was small and gentle, barely wetting the steps. She smiled anyway and marked her third blue dot.
Page 6
Days passed. The sky stayed dry and bright, blue instead of grey clouds now. Aahana's chart filled with grey lines, longer and longer. She counted her blues. Only three. 'I didn't catch four,' she said, a little sad. Amma hugged her. 'You caught the very last ones. That's something special too.'
Page 7
Aahana pinned her chart above her bed. Three blue lines, for three good rains. Many grey lines, for dry, sunny days ahead. She waved out the window at the clear sky. 'Bye, rain,' she whispered. 'See you next year.' Then she ran outside to play in the warm, dry sunshine.
Page 8