By Dr. G. L. Sampoorna
Snow. I wanted snow. The physical reality of our flat, tropical region was not going to limit me, my enterprising 11 year old mind was creative enough to change that reality.
Enlisting a friend’s support, I decided to invent snow. We put our fingers to work on shredding sheets of snow white paper. After a long industrious hour of manufacturing a lag enough heap of “snow”, we stood on the verandah of the top floor our school building, yelling loudly “snow, snow, everybody come, see, magic is happening, its snowing.” Desiring to share our joy with the school, wanting this rare occurrence to be enjoyed by all.
Eyes glittering, heart bursting with joy, head throbbing with excitement, we began to release the tiny shreds of paper. Going ecstatic as we watched the beautiful snow-flakes dancing in the sky. Each one different, changing direction, unhurriedly journeying to the ground, each at their own speed. Unable to contain our excitement, laughing, throwing our arms about, clasping hands, at actually seeing snow, we watched every movement of our created snowflakes, not wanting to miss any of it.
Even as we released more of our huge supply and looked at the snow settling on the ground, we made plans to run down at the end of the snowfall to play and throw snow at each other. That the other kids were not as enthused by this special feature, surprised but did not dampen our spirits.
We let it snow in different ways, sometimes throwing fistfuls, sometimes opening out our hands to let it slide off, sometimes blowing the flakes off our palms and then watching them play in the air till they settled down. Simply thrilling moments where we were unable to contain ourselves, for these special moments were real for us.
Reactions to simulated snow vary. Our teacher, puzzled by this white sheet on the ground, took a closer look and was aghast at the “mess”. Mistaking it for an act of mischief, she flew into a rage, yelling for the hooligans to confess.
Realising there was a misunderstanding, we attempted to correct it by shouting cheerfully from up above that this was no mess, it was snow. We did it, we announced with pride, anticipating praise and approval at our ingenuity. Surprised we were, as she yelled some more and even punished us. We were to clean it all up by hand and not attend class until this was done.
Though my teacher’s reaction was beyond my comprehension, I was thrilled. Here was double bonus- of being ordered to play with snow while other girls were stuck in class. God really loved us.
With mounting joy, I laughed uncontrollably at the whole, crazy situation, as we gathered the snowflakes on the staircase. The entire afternoon had been such immense fun, with all that snow, and now these bonuses as punishment. Some days were just so lucky. Hearing my friend snort, I giggled some more. I was taken aback when she commanded me to shut up, to stop laughing. She declared that we were being humiliated and I ought to be ashamed and crying. She informed me that she was sobbing in shame.
I honestly attempted to feel “humiliated” just to keep her company. But sitting on those cement steps, gathering my snow, I could only feel pure unadulterated joy and irrepressible laughter. This was loads of fun, and too good to be true. I guiltily endured my friend’s glares while it took all I had to restrain the sounds of laughter that continued to joyfully slip out of me every few minutes.
