My Winter Wonderland

by Shaharyar Karim (Pakistan)

A leap into the unknown Pakistan

It was during the early years of my life when everything seemed magical and poetic, when my thoughts were vivid by my imagination, uncorrupted by reason. We had arrived earlier in the midst of darkness in a small valley of Hunza near the northern most peaks of Pakistan. A valley enclosed by lush green trees of cherries, apples and apricots in the summers and snow covered mountains in the winters. It seemed that it was about seven in the morning, on a cold dark day of December. The sun had barely risen and i dared not get out of my bed, concealing my body from the cold beneath the warm exquisite softness of my duvet. Weather this cold unfortunately does often entice the stomach, hence i grudgingly decided to step out of the comfort of my bed and shivered my way to the dining table of our small wooden cottage, my grandfather looked at me with a proud expression of approval for waking up on a disciplined time. Still sitting on the dining chair and shivering, I could hear familiar crisp sound of heated oil on a frying pan in the kitchen next door. Without an itch of wonder, I just knew of the treat my grandmother had stored for me. Fried eggs of the divine variety one with two yolks, which to this day i have not eaten elsewhere. Accompanied by golden toasted homemade bread, and sprinkled with freshly grounded black pepper, boy did those eggs tasted sublime. Upon finishing my breakfast, I decided to accompany my grandfather to the local market, to fetch some groceries for the week. By about midday, we were dressed accordingly with four layering of clothing along with thick black boots to be able to walk on the icy snow outside. The weather appeared to be harshly freezing with snow all around us. Nonetheless as we entered the local market, it seemed the weather hadn’t tamed people’s spirit. The streets were full of people, with many of them enjoying each other’s company inside a Dhaba (street side cafes) enjoying the delightful aroma and taste of freshly brewed tea and creamy parathas being cooked on wood fired stoves. As I began to look beyond the road, I saw the hills surrounding the valley carved with long slender trees of imposing stature covered in white snow. The summer flowers, leaves, bees and birds were nowhere to be found. A city once so vividly colorful seemed to be so pale and frozen, yet its people were so warm, alive and blissful. Companions and strangers alike, sat in a circle, around a fire lit inside a steel can, drinking warm tea, and indulging each other with playful humor and folklore. After reaching home we enjoyed a nice lunch and i went outside in the yard, to enjoy a brief period of relatively warm temperature before the sun begins to set. By evening, I joined my grandparents to have a bout of tea and snacks, as we realized we may not make it past sunset without feeling excruciatingly hungry. So my grandmother prepared for us some warm tea with heated dry fruits to keep the hunger at bay. We devoured the warm roasted peanuts and pistachios with our tea, and those warm crunchy snacks really did make my winters worth remembering. As the night progressed, the world around us became silent and still. Not a sound could be heard and everything just seemed to stand at its place. To gasp for a breath of fresh air, we stepped outside the house and there i witnessed the universe above the sky staring at me with all its glory. The night was clear and the sky was filled with stars and a full moon, while the world beneath my feet seemed to have frozen for eternity. I felt i was standing in the midst of the universe, watching it unravel. We all sat next to each other enjoying our dinner next to a fireplace, enjoying each other’s company for hours, wittingly joking and relishing the winter. The season may have been notoriously cold and inhospitable, yet essentially it was warm with affection and tenderness, the kind which nostalgia is made of.