I gazed up at the skies as I made my way to Singapore Chinatown’s Sri Mariamman Temple. The slightly darkened clouds signalled at the rain that was about to fall. I walked as briskly as I could in my heavy maroon lace saree. It had been twelve years since my last chopda pujan and I never thought I’d see the day where I’d preside over my very own. I watched my great-grandfather perform the ceremony annually growing up, but I never thought one day I’d be next in line. Life must know things that I don’t.