Reminiscences of Sheen Bhagwaan(snow man@ Kanataal).

The snow looked fresh, But, I was told , it was a couple of days old.There were intermittent patches of soggy grass at the edges of the snow.The snow facing the sunny side of the Mountain had thawed.I sauntered for a while, just to have a good look of the Vistas, and then I knelt down and grasped the snow with both my hands.I pressed it hard and made it like a ball-a small snow ball.I threw it up in the sky and watched it fall down as it hit the Bough of the Devdar.It broke into many parts.some parts fell down on the bed of snow and a part of it became a sort of powdery-ice and disappeared in the thin air.

I again took some snow in my hands, pressed it again and made yet another ball.This time, I rolled it on the snowy-surface and with each turn, the ball became bigger and bigger.I made a couple of big Snow balls, each ball as big as a Football. I was doing all this to make the *Sheen Bhagwan* or Snowman- like I used to do in my childhood at Kashmir.

The Kashmiri pandits used to call the Snow-Man as Sheen(snow) Bhagwan(demigod); while the Muslims called it as ‘Sheen(Snow) Mohnuy(man).

Back in The valley, I used to make a big Snow-Man as there used to be enough snow to make the big torso and the big head of the Snow-man. I also used to make the outstretched arms of ‘SheenBhagwan’.we used to put coal in place of the eyes of the Snow-Man. It used to take many days or weeks for the snow man to melt completely.

But things were different here.

I had to supplant tiny twigs in place of the coal, in order to make the eyes of the Snow-Man. And , When I tried to put a peice of a thicker twig for Nose, It just crumbled. I re-made it once again.This time without a nose.

While, I was making The ‘Sheen-Bhagwan’,The renewed feeling of holding the snow in my hand put me in a reverie. I could see and hear my late Grandmother telling me, “sheenas syeth ha Dyazi Aatha “(Snow will burn your hands).I was literally feeling again my hands burning.Nevertheless , I was enjoying the Child’s play along with my Son as my wife was amusingly looking at us.

There were few apple tress on those steps of Kanatal. Those step-fields disappeared somewhere down in the valley.Few steps were covered with snow. Many tourists, like me were just enjoying the snow.

Far-Far away, The spectacular, snow-capped, redoubtable Himalayas stood a witness to all of our activities.I stayed there for some time and tried to capture and live the moment.

Soon, It was time to go.

Though, The snowman which I made was far from being called a perfect.Yet its imperfection was just perfect to titiliate and activate some of my childhood memories.

And relive the winter of Kashmir….