Momentary pathways

The city's been getting a rather generous amount of snowfall over the past few weeks. Today, being a Sunday and all, we decided to take a stroll around the neighborhood to enjoy some of the scenes of pre-Xmas shopping. Jaya snapped a quick one of me as we walked out and I, feeling a tad inspired by the photograph, penned a few words that came to me. And here it is now.

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An unabridged emotion

It finally happened. After what seemed like a nervous wait for the unknown eventuality, it finally did. Actually it began quite fervently yesterday but took on the gorgeous form of a relentless wave last night as it showered generous flakes of soft feather-weight white snow all over Copenhagen. What made it particularly special for me was that it was Jaya's first real chance at indulging in some serious snow fights. As she threatened to swing a big fist full at me last night, we stood in our cargo shorts clicking warm photographs under a cold blanket and became children for a few brief moments.

I couldn't help but relate to her unabridged enthusiasm at the whole affair. I remember being absolutely ecstatic back in 1992, when I had first encountered snow at the foothills of Kedarnath in North India. As a lad in the prime of his teenage years, I recall being absolutely fascinated with the cold and hard chunks of natural ice that seemed to give me so much joy just by being themselves. I then met snow again in the Xmas of 2000, during my first visit to the United States. I remember being equally fascinated by it even the second time but I also remember being subtle about the whole thing in the presence of my American-born cousins. Had it just been me I'd have probably danced in euphoria once again.

As I watched Jaya show me the photographs she had taken of the heavy snowfall around the city, I could feel that familiar pulsating emotion that only folks like us can experience. And by that I mean – people who never grew up around snow. Even though I traveled the country growing up, I never lived in a place where it snowed. Heck, I used to think it would snow everywhere except in India until I realized that snowfall had nothing to do with countries and had more to do with where they were located. That fact was rather unsettling since all geographical aspects aside, I felt suddenly alienated from this wonderful experience. As I'd watch New Year celebrations on the television from New York or Moscow or somewhere else in the foreign lands where snow was a regular feature during this time of the year, I'd always wonder what it was about snow that made us – well, so child-like. We would be tempted to go out there, even in sub zero temperatures, to make snowmen or have intense snowball fights. We'd want to jump, crash, hop and even slide down the terrain as long as we knew that the cool and comforting mattress of pure white snow was there to help us along the way. Maybe it was in that innocent sense of natural care, that my imagination, of snow always being associated with something so joyous and entertaining, found wings. I cant say for sure.

All these thoughts returned to me as I watched Jaya call her family up and share her wonderful first experience with the big bold white. I am sure she will see many such snowfalls in the months, and even years, to come. But I am also certain that no matter how many winters and snowflakes embrace her from this point forward, she will never forget this day when she got up and the entire city's stony silence had been transformed into a giant canvas of pure excitement. Ah...how wondrous would it be if it would snow everywhere in the world at the same time so that all of us – earth citizens – could, for one brief fleeing moment, forget about hating or loving each other and just … just enjoy this unabridged emotion.

Oh well. If what I hear about global warming is true, then this hope of mine could definitely be a reality. Perhaps with tragic consequences...but definitely an undeniable reality. Until then, I am happy that Jaya now has something that is certainly so unique.

Flaky thoughts

As a child I remember always badgering my father to take us to Kashmir. Reason? All the snow. In retrospect today I wonder where that inexplicable fixation to that white cotton volatility really stemmed from. It could have been the popcorn candy laced Yash Raj movies that celebrated snow as if it was some sort of divine ingredient that made love such a special experience. It could also have been the fact that most places that we lived in growing up – Chennai, Hyderabad, Pune and even New Delhi – never saw an inch of snow even in their own versions of ‘winter’. I still remember pelting tiny cubes of tasteless and watery ice from the refrigerator at my equally enthusiastic brother as we played the ‘snow game’ pretending we were flinging snowballs at each other as we ran around the living room in our vests while mom screamed at us from the kitchen. As juvenile as such episodes seem now I could not help revisit them today as I returned home from work after being generously sprayed with cold and fresh snow flakes falling lazily from the grey skies. It is winter in Copenhagen and so the heavens have now decided to flourish us with some intense snowfalls.

Anyway, the irony of it was this – I disliked it a little. In fact I couldn’t wait to get inside, get out of the moist woolen jacket and get into a warm pair of dry clothes. I couldn’t stand the constant landing of haphazardly vicious snow pellets that seemed determined to annoy me no end. It was somehow nostalgic and frustrating at the same time as I tried so desperately to think of why on God’s green earth we used to be so fascinated by snow back in the day. Was it because we had never really seen it? Was it because we had somehow put up a mantle for it that was so high and dramatic that it seemed unattainable? I don’t know for sure. But I couldn’t quite connect the dots that made kids like me crazy about snow in those days.

I still remember the sheer surge of adrenaline that had cut through our bodies when we had spotted the first genuine layers of hard snow mounds on our way to the holy shrine of Kedarnath in North India as we rode on the back of a tired pony. Despite our sore bottoms we had jumped off of its back and chased each other throwing generous lumps of white blissful snowballs at one another as dad clicked photographs from the distance wrapped in a bright red sweater and a grey colored ‘monkey cap’. Fun times indeed!

My next big connection with snow came when I visited the United States for the first time in 2000 for Xmas. All of the Washington and Baltimore area had been covered with heavy snowfall and I still remember feeling numb with emotion as I played mercilessly in it with my cousins. It was good while it lasted, I guess. But then somehow that fascination went away…until I moved to Europe in 2007. My first Xmas in 2007 brought with it a gracious serving of the white miracle one evening. I remember walking out of the apartment that day and standing mesmerized at my very first ‘resident snowfall’ – translation, my first snow fall in a place I actually lived in and wasn’t a tourist at. It was good for a day, maybe two, oh what the heck, three days! But then that fascination began to fade. I got sick with cold and couldn’t wait to experience the brazen heat that our good friend – the sun – used to provide. I craved for days where I could just walk to the supermarket wearing a T Shirt, jeans and sandals. I used to long for days when I didn’t have to get dressed in six different woolen accessories just to throw out the garbage. It was an interestingly different time as my attitude towards snow and everything about it seemed to have changed a bit.

But then there is also something else to it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was still unattached back then and the sight of love-happy couples walking quietly amid snow laden streets made me look away. Maybe it was the fact that, much like the Yash Raj features, I didn’t have anyone to sing ‘dekha ek khwaab to yeh silsilay hue…’ like Bachchan Sr. as a lissome Rekha crooned from across the frozen lake in a turtle neck pull over. I am not sure. But luckily, with that aspect of my life taking a much appreciated turn, I am now hoping the next time winter comes along I should be a much happier man. Doesn’t that sound reasonable now?

Amen!

..ShaKri..