Moment of snowy reckoning

Raaja Bhasin

After the monsoon deluge and the wreckage it left behind, so far, despite the chill, this has been a relatively dry winter in the hills. While this may change, hopefully, at any moment, the rain and a smatter of snow show their elusive faces for a moment and then vanish. The mid-hills of Jammu and Kashmir, Himachal and Uttarakhand are still somewhat dry. One can put this down to climate change, or to humankind’s great wisdom and constant interference with the natural world. For all to see and experience, there is a shift to extremes in weather. Drought to flood, blazing heat to bitter cold in areas that had not experienced these earlier. More often than not, this leaves havoc in its wake.

In years now gone, there was a level of predictability about the seasons and how they behaved. Of a well-mannered winter, one could expect snow around Christmas. The snow of early winter is ‘dry’ and ‘lighter’ than the heavy water-filled snow of February or March. This is what the farmers and foresters swear by. It chills the air and soil while the moisture seeps slowly into the earth and revives water sources. This also takes longer to melt. Sunless corners hide dark ice and compacted snow to the peril of unwary drivers and pedestrians.

While this standard pattern of annual migration has changed, in earlier times, within days of the Christmas and New Year celebrations ending, families with bundles of children and luggage would move to warmer climes. Shimla and several other hill towns would shift gears and prepare to go into a couple of months of hibernation. Schools and colleges would shut for the winter. The people, who belonged to Himachal, would move from Shimla to their ancestral homes in Pragpur, Garli, Bhota, Jawalaji, Dehra, Palampur and other places. The days are long over when these intrepid people, mostly from the Sood community, would have to walk two or three days from their businesses located in Shimla, to their rural roots in Kangra and Hamirpur. They would also carry a portion of the year’s earnings to spruce up their ancestral homes. In the higher hills, many moved from their single house ‘dochis’ in the higher reaches and spent winter along the warmer valley floors. By this time of year, the migrant gaddis and gujjars would have also moved with their flocks of sheep and goats, and buffalos and cows, from their summer pastures to their winter ones.

An exceptional moment in recent years was the night of the January 6, 2018, when it began snowing in Shimla. This continued for another day. At the end, considerably over a foot of snow had come down in this short time. Human life in the town, and around, came to a standstill. Even the monkeys, who are known for both determination and desperation, were silent and remained largely unseen. Tourists, who were once craving to see the snow, were now anxious to get out — only, the roads lay blocked and would remain so for a couple of days. Someone I know was hoping to get engaged and the prospective in-laws arrived to witness this white cover in all its magnificence and difficulty; they abandoned all plans of sending their daughter to the hills.

The water supply was interrupted and we took to collecting snow in buckets and waiting for it to melt. Electricity wires came down, and, in places, these and other cables began to festoon the landscape as buntings gone awry. Several trees came down and fallen branches could be seen in several places. My sons and I collected some of these branches and tried to revive our largely disused fireplaces. The result, with the wet wood, was more of smoke and effort than warmth.

In Shimla, for those in the know, there is an exemplary marker of that exceptional snowfall. This is the jagged tree stump of an aged deodar tree that lies across the Army’s Command House, ‘The Retreat’, and is just by the gate of the Woodbank Rest House of the Railways. Just below the remnants of this tree is a small single-storeyed structure that belongs to the Railways. That night, with the snow coming down, the family living there was all curled up for warmth. Then, for no apparent reason, their dog began barking and jumping at the ‘master’. The family tried to quieten their pet, but to no avail. Finally, someone stepped out to see what was agitating the dog and saw that the tree above, weighed down by the snow, was about to come down. Moments before this massive deodar flattened the house, the family rushed out. Their lives had been saved by their dog. 

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