Show of snow on hills
The cold is still the same. If anything, it seems icier with advancing age. The snow is still the same, except for moments that climate change and other factors decide to poke their noses. Apart from the tourists who go into raptures and follow with loud tirades against the cold, one cannot but wonder at the silence after a good snowfall. A long time ago, it was amongst the noisiest times of the year. The snow could not muffle the cries, the shouts and the laughter of children sledging down the slopes.
The three sisters next door had the Rolls Royce of sledges. All of us stood respectfully aside when it emerged for the first run of winter. It was a sledge worth drooling over. It could have had a liveried chauffeur. It was the biggest sledge around and could seat three, maybe four at a pinch. If one did not have to concentrate for dear life on that mad rush down the snow-covered slope that lay just outside the gate, one could wave graciously at snow-draped trees, icicles and mournful monkeys.
As the temperature dropped, clouds gathered and the first snowfall of the season was forecast, an assortment of vehicles would emerge from dusty stores, cupboards and other unseen corners. There was my mid-range sledge of sorts. Smoothened slats that may have come from a discarded fruit crate served as a seat, narrow planks acted as runners. It had cost all of Rs 5 and was a part of the winter accessories that the carpenter shops stocked in Lakkar Bazaar. The bow, if it could be called that, had a loop of rope to tug and hopefully turn the sledge in the desired direction. Other children arrived with upturned wooden bathing or chopping boards.
Our own sizes were somewhat in proportion to that of what we rode. There were some, like me, who were just a couple of feet off the ground and if the snow lay too high, I could not see over the top.
Preparations involved the entire household. My mother would place a few sets of clothing out – knowing that several would be soaked and others needed as the day went. A stand was placed before the fire to dry each lot as it was removed and another pair of trousers pulled hurriedly on before running out again. Waterproof clothing, as it exists today, was still a thing of the future then.
All over the hills, wherever there was a slope and where children could reach, there was a trail for racing down and of sledges being dragged back up. In places, preparations were far more elaborate. Just across, on another slope, children bigger than us had a reconnaissance team that would go out at daybreak to check if there were any patches where the snow had melted. If an erring blob of tarmac was sighted, a bucket of water was hurriedly poured over it with the hope that it would freeze over before the sledging began and woe betide the hapless pedestrian who thought that the snow had melted.
