Snow...Blossoms...Red, and Snow

The last really heavy snowfall we had for this winter was probably a month ago. It snowed the whole day long and by the evening there were more than 9 inches of snow. And it was still snowing. I was going out in the evening to return or renew (I didn't know what it was going to end up being) "some" library books (about 57 of them packed inside a red suitcase) and also to pick up Guha from his department where he was working. I walked outside. The fresh soft snow barely scrunched under my boots, and even though it was way past 9 in the evening there was that translucent blue-white haze - which always comes in with a dense snowfall, and is probably the light from the startling white snow - lighting up our whole deserted and desolate road. I got the common apartment broom from our porch to dust off the snow from "Blossoms" (originally Guha's sister's car, which was transferred to Guha and me: I christened her). I reckoned that I could do that first and then wheel the suitcase outside and stuff it into Blossoms.

I was standing there outside with the snowflakes still whirling and twirling all around, and quite merrily but silently I started brushing off the thick snow from Blossoms. It was a silent universe, and there I was quite engaged in my task at hand.

All of a sudden I spied a man walking down our road. He boomed out a "Hello there." I nodded tersely, and said a short "Hi." He let out a rumble of a laugh at no doubt my seemingly frantic attempts to brush off the snow from Blossoms' head. He was a hurly-burly Black man visiting the shady house opposite to our apartment (no doubt), and although I had no intentions of being rude, I didn't really want to strike up a conversation either (the reasons for which may be elaborated upon on some other day). He let out another rumbling laugh, and said, "Here, let me help you." At this point there were about nine feet separating him from me. I yelled out a cheery, "Oh, I'm perfectly fine. No problem here." But he kept walking towards me with his rumbling laugh intact and without a break, he said, "Let me do that for you."
The number of feet separating the two of us was decreasing at an alarming and an uncomfortable rate. I bellowed out a, "No thank you. I'm perfectly fine, and nearly done." But he wasn't paying any attention. He just kept coming closer. Finally I had enough. I stopped brushing off the snow from Blossoms' trunk. Feet apart, I faced Mr. Hurly-Burly with my white plastic broom (with its ridiculous multi-coloured green, white, and I think pink bristles) held out like a mighty (strange!) lance. He sort of paused, and I said quite calmly, "No, I don't need your help. I can do this myself." In my head I was saying, "You take two more steps mister, and I'll be charging into you with my broom." I think he finally got the point. He mumbled, "Okay then. I'll just go and meet John. I'm visiting John, who lives there." He said pointing to where John lives. Maybe he was trying to tell me that he wasn't some kind of a dodgy character since he knew my "neighbours". I said, "You go on ahead, and good night." He mumbled the same and walked off leaving me standing with my plastic broom. What I had intended to do with that broom whose head of bristles falls off every now and again I have no idea.

As I saw the Mr. Nice-Bloke walking away, I lowered the broom, swept Blossoms clean, and then trudged back inside to grab the bright red suitcase full of books. "Come on Red." I said cheerfully. "It's you and me now." Red slid along in a funny way along the new snow, sometimes protesting in his tracks because of a mound of snow-collect near his wheels. But he didn't protest too much, and finally both of us were standing near Blossoms. I kept an eye out just in case Mr. Friendly or one of his cronies were going to make another sudden appearance. But that didn't happen. I opened the back door and heaved and heaved, while trying to swing Red in. He tried too, poor thing. And I knew that it wasn't that I lacked the strength. Oh, no. It was just that I was so infernally short. And there in the middle of the falling snow and Blossoms' door, and while trying to throw Red into the backseat instead of wasting my time cursing, I told God that if He were planning to send me back to Earth ever again, He'd better make me tall the next time around. Red finally made it in. I somehow managed to heave him up, and gave one mighty lunge and Red went phat on the car-seat, and made himself comfortable. Red was panting and squeaking more than I was by the end of all our antics.

That done, I hopped into the front seat and drove away down over the river and into the campus in the midst of the sterling white swirl. I nearly lost traction once (the snow plower hadn't been through), and sort of skidded but recovered speedily enough (unlike Joe who once did a 180 degree turn and was caught facing the headlights of the approaching traffic - certainly not somewhere one wants to be...).

I picked up Guha from his building and drove to the library. This time he lifted Red out with one little swing, and I took Red in, who this time, was squealing along merrily in the snow. I didn't have to return the books. I could renew them for which I was thankful. I got into the car after Guha yet again swung Red in with a little whoosh, and popped back into his seat. The two of us had a smoke, chattered away some, and I told him about my bizarre little incident among other things - but most of all we just kept staring and staring silently at the wondrous snowflakes filling up the bit of the world we happened to be in.
The drive back home was "uneventful" and enchanting.
Snow kept coming down in gentle bursts all night long. The next day morning, everything was still covered in the soft, powdery, cold whiteness.