The Snow that would have Glowed

I was happy — I was sad.

I tried my best to give a real smile, but in reality, I was lonely. As long as others thought that I was okay, my actual emotions never mattered. I hardly smiled anyways; I was always stoic and reserved and stayed aloof. If my eyes were up and wide open, people would think that I was happy. If my eyes gave a negative vibe, people would think I was not happy.

I lived in a village where it snowed half the year. A few years ago, the snow used to glow. But after a certain incident, it stopped glowing. I couldn’t remember names well. But I remember one name clearly — Usha.

Usha was my little sister. We had an age gap of 2 years. She looked different from me. She had pale soft skin, black shiny long hair, pink cheeks, red glossy smiling lips, and icy blue eyes. When she was born, the first beam of sunlight caressed her face. She was born on October 12th. That day, snowflakes fell from the sky and the entire village was engulfed in gentle glowing snow.

But our mother was taken away after a few years. She died due to an illness. Our father had left us and gone to the city a long time ago. Only I and Usha were left. She was two or three by the time Maa died. I hadn’t been able to realise it sooner, Usha was weak. If she did not wear a sweater, she would die. If she did not watch where she was going, she would die. If she did not eat well enough, she would die.

When would it start snowing? Usha would know it first. On some day around her birthday, she would wear her sweater, run outside to the fields and catch a few snowflakes. She used to put them on her hair and play in the snow with the stray huskies. She forced me to have fun. I was having fun, but a reserved person like me was hard to read. Around the months of December and January, when the snow would get dense and thick, Usha would stay the entire day out. Our schools would be closed during this time, so she didn’t have to care about anything but herself.

Every year, she snow glowed. It shined all the time. And Usha was the light. I felt happy as long as I had Usha.

But one day, tragedy struck — My life had been ruined. Usha was playing some friends of hers. I had told her, “Usha, take care of yourself. Don’t play such games where you could fall or get hurt.” She obeyed whatever I said. She and her friends were a game called ‘catch and catch.’ It was a game where you are a player of a team and you throw a ball and one player of the other team catches it. Her friends did not know of Usha’s illness and asked her to get the ball which landed far away.

My sister was just seven and a very obedient girl. While going to get it, she slipped on a stone covered in snow and fell. Her friends saw her hurt and ran to me. I was terrified. I ran to her. By the time I could take her to a hospital, she was already dead. Her last words were ‘Udai’ and not ‘snow,’ which was a word she said often.

I couldn’t even cry, the weight on my chest was too much. I failed to be responsible big brother. I failed to protect what mattered to me the most. I did not know if I should hate snow or love it, if I should love stones or hate them, if I should hate myself or not. Usha would have wanted to me to continue loving and living life. So I did, for her sake.

I was happy — I was sad. It’s been 8 years since Usha’s death. The heaviness in my chest never lightened, but kept on increasing.

I was lost. I did not know anything going around me. It was break time. I was reading a book. It was too boring to read so I shut it and went outside for a stroll. The moment I went outside the classroom, I saw a few girls shouting at the floor. I asked them to make way. They were still shouting.

“Little kids speak so much,” I muttered, “Can you make way?” They turned around. My stoic face always scared little children. I realised that they were not shouting at the floor, but at a girl. The girl looked up at me. My eyes widened.

“Have I seen you before?” She asked.

“I study in this school,” I replied.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “But I am a new student. I’m in the fifth standard.” I looked at her face properly — the same icy blue eyes, the same shiny black hair, the same red glossy lips. Usha’s memories came flooding into my mind. I ran away. My face was stoic as ever, but my heart was going to explode.

At the bottom of the steps, I took deep breaths. Usha must have reincarnated as that girl.

“Did I hurt you?” A small voice came.

“Usha!” I whispered. I looked behind me. Usha’s reincarnation stood the same way, the same way when I had got mad at her once.

“Close,” she said, “My name is Uma. I have no friends. All the girls in my class are mean. Could you be my friend? You seem to be a very nice person.” I remembered Usha’s friends who accidentally sent her to death.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll be friends with you.” She heard this loud and clear and smiled like Usha.

“Can I call you Usha?” I asked. She nodded and said that she had always wanted to be named Usha. She told me about her class and classmates. I listened. I felt that what had been lost, had been returned.

That evening, an old man knocked at the door of my lonely house. I opened it. “Thanks for being Uma’s friend,” he said, “Please be Uma’s friend for little while more. I have to leave because I need to get a surgery done. I dropped her here because my allies live here. They will take care of her. Please, let my precious Uma be happy.”

I nodded. He left without having dinner at my place. For the next few days, I found myself listening to Uma’s talks and introducing her to other people in her class who wanted to befriend her. It seemed strange for a 10th grader to befriend a 5th grader in such a way.

It was October 12th. “Happy birthday, Usha,” I said to Usha’s picture that I kept in my wallet.

“How did you know that today is my birthday?” Uma asked.

“Because the first snowflake has already fallen on your head,” I replied and gifted her a toy aeroplane that I found for 15 rupees at the local market. She played with it happily. In the field that was covering with snow slowly. A few of her new friends joined her too.

I looked up at the sky and let snow cover my lenses.

“Hey! Udai!” A person who seemed to be my classmate called, “You look happy! What happened?”

“Who were you again?” I asked, “Oh, wait. I remember… What’s wrong, Chanaya?”

“My name is Chandrasekhar!” He yelled, “Anyways, you seemed sad when you saw snow or snowflakes. But you seem happy.”

“The snow would have glowed,” I said, “If, I was much more responsible.”

“You always say that,” Chandal complained. I do not know if that was his name since I forgot.

“The snow never glows like it did eight years ago,” I continued, “It will never glow like it used to. But now, a faint light has come in place of that light that was once here. And the snow will glow a bit again. Of course, nothing can ever replace that light that warmed me, but this faint light reminds me of the first sunbeam. Since the sunbeam cannot shine in my life now, I can only rely on this faint light that brings back a drop of happiness.”

“That is exactly what you need, Udai,” Chakraborty said and left.

I went to Uma and asked, “If I say something non-sensical and something that you don’t understand, will you think that I’m mad or crazy?” She shook her head.

“If I had realised that your light warmed me, the snow would have glowed everyday,” I said to the sky, “But thank you for coming back, Usha. Thank you for coming back as my sunbeam!”

“Udai, can you be my older brother forever?” Came an inevitable question.

“Yes,” I said, “I’ll be your older brother forever.”