Under the Frozen Tears of God

Today, I took my bike out to ride around the block for fun, slipped twice and fell off on the street, made people laugh and it was all entertaining and enjoyable.

It feels great to bike in a foot of snow, but be careful: if you're going to do it, lower the seat just enough to keep your balance. You also need to have mud or studded tires to prevent sliding.

Heaps of snow is going to blanket the entire East Coast of the United States tonight. It has been snowing since Tuesday morning with a slightly frigid chill that is sweeping across the Northeast. Tomorrow, a bitter cold is expected to follow after the sky satiates itself from shedding its frozen tears on to earth.

Today, I was feeling nostalgic for those snowy days in the most remote village in central Afghanistan. The snowstorm of today reminded me of the heavy snowfall, up to 3 and sometimes 4 feet of snow, in my village. I recall the winters when the slow, steady snow sometimes lasted five days. I recall the winter when, as a result of heavy snow, a barn collapsed in the village. One morning, when I walked out of the house, my elder brother asked me to stand at the edge of the snow wall, which was taller than I was. I was 11 years old.

The flat and little houses of villagers were enveloped with snow and roads were completely blocked. We used to spend almost three days removing the snow from the roofs, paths, barns and backyards. Then, the fourth day, the whole community was getting together for a mass clearing of the snow from long paths leading to other communities. For almost 3 months, communities across the district had been going into hibernation.

In this way, life was simple and warm. It was easy to believe anything that was told us and we never knew what the fact was and what fiction was. Everything was new and fascinating to us. Old mythical stories always amused and amazed us, especially when we listened to some of them with absolute horror. The fairies, ghosts, and deads becoming alive, were the stories that bewitched our little souls and captivated our memories with imagery, fears, and attractions.

It is those days’ memories that cling to me, every once in a while. It is those endless reminiscences that fascinate every moment of my life, today. It is those stories, and nostalgia that wistfully hint at a river of melancholy mood in me, in the dismal winter of Pennsylvania.