It Snowed, Again.

It was all over the news. When dear old Indian media can find some time-slots to show weather updates of a place half a globe away, it has to be worth some TRP. The experts called it 'The Polar Vortex'. It resulted in an unusual wave of super cold winds throughout North America for more about a week. Even Texas saw snow!

Why am I telling all this is - unlike many of my friends, I like it when there is some form of precipitation. Not that I am very much fond of going out and freeze to sickness in a freezing rain (something that forms those crystal stalactites hanging from the bottom of the cars), but I do enjoy the unusual-ness of the fact that something is falling from the sky! (Nopp! I haven't gotten used to the science behind it yet. It is still a little magic to me).

The day was January 25th, when it was three things together - A Saturday, a clear sky, and lots (LOTS!) of snow accumulated. Anup, Vachas and I drove very (very) cautiously on that slippery road and reached Jacobson Park (a mile south from our place) and I must say, my Blue German Babe never looked so beautiful. Not as azure as the sky, but close, with a little powdery snow on it, braked on the slippery few with the screech marks - she looked hot!

Basically, the complete enjoyment on that weekend was limited to Jacobson Park only. But the best part that morning was, we few were the very first of humans to have gone in that park by that time. It looked so dreamy, so peaceful that I am sure my language or photography skills will not be able to do even the quarter of the justice it deserves.

You just stand there and just stand there, struggling to form that one sentence in your mind or find that one word, one simile or one metaphor that can describe what you see.

And then, suddenly you wake up to the thought that you don't want to miss even a second of it focusing on your language prowess. You turn back and see the sun playing hide and seek among clouds, making distinct sometime and sometime dull shadows playfully from the tree skeletons. And suddenly, again, you decide to join the game yourself - "Now it will be clear shadow, now dull, now no shadow, now clear..." Like the clouds, time flies and you keep staring at the flawless, footprintless snow...

I did not know how to take pictures of that joy, the joy of the white stagnant serenity that was all around. I tried jumping around (due to which I tripped and rolled down a slope in that snow), I tried shouting interjections, I tried calling people (but that included taking fingers out of gloves, so quit the idea). The loneliness had that strange out-worldly charm that one might wonder if it is a parallel universe and if you are the first to explore it.

Prolay da, Ajit joined a little late... and by that time, my car was done with the much needed manual push by Anup and Vachas to get past the skid zone and get its tires moving... I was home at a speed of 1 mile per 15 minutes.

The afternoon had a dilemma - Should I watch Mishawr Rohosshyo (with the amazing party of Suman, Subarata di, Koel and Dibakar) or should I head for Jacobson Park again (with Soumen, Anup and Moumita) to see the orange slant sun on the snow. I chose the sun. Must say, Koel, Suman, Dibakar, Subarata di understand the me in me a little. And so, there I was, again, out with my camera.

And what a sight awaited me! Soumen was driving and I was not prepared for anything till the car stops at a parking (recognizable only by the "P" iron posts peeking out of the thick snow), so I was not in the shotgun seat of his car. Moumita was the first to point her out from a distance - "Who on earth is wearing a Sari in this cold?" We all looked closer and there she was:

Clad in a white silk gown, denying the chill of the wind but using it to make herself look heavely. In about a few more seconds, she was going to run inside a car parked near by (driven by her photographer friend) but for every second she stood there, she amazed us equally with her patience like she did with her fairy-like beauty. Unbelievably stunning she was (I am honestly struggling with adjectives here). When she was gone, I was left with one thought more prominently that so many other -  How could I be present at the precise moment? How?

And the story of perfect timings did not end there (although, noone else showed up in white silk gowns)... but we had the sun, just where we wanted. The snow flying off the topmost layer of their accumulation continued to give us that deserted melancholy feel. Yet it was joyous to the fullest for people like us who are accustomed to tropical climates. Soumen and Anup have seen more winters than I have and that's why it was nice to know that this was the best snow they have seen.

The golden, low sun with the wind kissing the surface of the snow, the dazzling hue at the horizon... Something that you see in National Geographic Channel when they show remote Siberia or Northern Russia... it does produce some overly dramatic moments. I had never seen footprints which are knee deep or are cold and warm at the same time. Sometimes only the silhouette of a person (that too may be only from the back) is enough to deduce that the person is smiling. I know for sure, the fun we had that afternoon, the sights and the sound of the wind on our nearly frozen ears and not to forget the absence of any smell on our completely frozen noses - it is going to be etched in our memories for a long time.

The day had to come to an end and it happened quite suddenly. But lucky for me, I could get the last fringes of the sun-rays coming through the trees. And I knew they were the very last of the rays because the moment I called Soumen to capture the very same picture (which was like a minute after I was done capturing it), it was gone! As if the sun also gave up to the rules of gravity. We all know the sun sets, but we have barely witnessed it vanish. Even on that day, I probably missed it by a blink.

From a blue-orange setting, we were now down to just a blue one - just like the colour you get when you put a few drops of Royal Blue ink in water - transparent yet intense. For a very rare time, the earth was also trying to imitate the sky, just like the seas. The evening was not synonymic to darkness anymore. The traces of the remaining light was trying hard to get amplified through the snow. The continuous and restless sound of the gently flowing water added to the calming effect. White surely is the colour of peace (even when it has turned blue).

The park authorities were making rounds to make sure nobody is left inside the park when they close it. We were also told to leave the premises but we continued to walk as slow as we already were. There were some trees, some faint chirping of birds, some now-almost-invisible footprints on the snow... and a bench. Soumen asked Moumita if she would like to stop for sometime. She did. After I had walked ahead a few more steps, I turned back and witnessed that perfect scene from a 50s cinema which makes an iconic hand drawn poster.

"After all these years, I still look at you the way I did the first time."

They both are two of those few people whom I know for real and who make me believe in so many things which are easy to doubt.

Even the end of the evening came to an end and we were out of the park shortly. After a long time, I was somehow satisfied with the contents of my photographs. I try not to do it. The satisfaction gets to the head and screws up the next mission. But I could not help it. I called up a few of my friends and told them about the beauty the Polar Vortex had brought along with the chills and bad road conditions. I also confessed about the satisfaction which was gradually crawling up my head. As a friend, Shubhs helped me stay earthed.

And I could not be more glad that I had my head cleared up in time. It made space for the next big thing I have in my thoughts: a trip to my most favorite place on earth - Kolkata. My papers are on their way, flight tickets look reasonable and I have waited long enough without seeing my loved ones. I am ready to fly.

See you soon!