Hridhima Tyagi, Class IX B
It was when I was five that I got a chance to visit the most tranquil place, the forehead of India, Jammu and Kashmir. It was about 5 in the morning when we reached the airport, and I sped out excitedly expecting to jam into knee-deep snow. But to my utmost horror the ground was as dry and bare as in Indore.
I tried to let my spirits live and expect some snow on the peaks and the slopes of mountains, but my grandmother could clearly spot my dashing hopes.
We sat in the taxi which was to drop us to our villa. I deliriously closed my eyes and giggled softly waiting for the snow to come. I remained in the same position till the taxi stopped, and then I slowly opened my eyes to savour the white background, only to find the rocky brown terrain with mere patches of snow here and there which had become black from being treaded upon.
I stamped my foot in frustration and ran inside the villa. My grandmother followed me inside with a strained look on her face. She tried to pacify me with jolly plans of the next few days, but I wouldn’t listen to anything.
I had a bad sleep that night. The next daybreak too I woke up in a foul mood. I sat up gloomily and opened up the window. The sight that met my eyes left me in awe. The whole of the mountains was covered in the whitest snow I’d ever seen and I spotted my grandmother shovelling the front yard. The cold air blasted inside the room. Apart from the Earth, the atmosphere was also flecked with white from the icicles of the perfect shape falling from heaven. The god was showering his blessings……
