Snow in India .3.1.

. 3.1.

Amrita ran and ran and each step she took, the warm earth pressed against her feet, filling the gaps between her toes with reddish clay. She bounded across the fields, flinging her tight ponytail away from her face. And there in front of her were the cotton fields, that stretched as far as her little body could see. Yet all she saw was that one cotton flower that had been lifted by a current of warm air, and the rest was just there. Laying there, seen and yet unseen at the same time.

At the edge of the fields, stood a haggard old missionary church, worn down by pillagers and time, till all that remained was an empty shell filled with voices of school children. That was a make shift school for all the children in the village. It had been Amrita’s school for the past three years, and she rushed in, taking her place in the room by the door.

They were being taught the weather that day. There was the sun, the rain, the clouds, the wind, and there was snow. No one knew what that was. The lady who taught them said, “Well, it is something you get when it is cold.” “Colder than when it rains all night and day?”, asked the children.
“It comes from the sky, when the rain freezes,”
“So snow would hurt?”
“No. It is light and soft, like the cotton in the fields.”