One Snowy Winter's Eve


My first attempt at skiing happened a long time ago on a
winter vacation, during a memorable trip to the picturesque
valley of Vadaal, Norway. The steep hill slopes were covered  
by a thick blanket of snow, an ideal location for skiing. I had
optimistically rented the skiing gear that was beyond the
level of my skill. This I realized in a tragic way, but at the
outset I convinced myself that the number of winter sport 
events that I saw on the TV qualified me to dexterously slide
down the sparkling slopes. 

My friend, a seasoned skier, gave me a brief demonstration, 
instructing me, “Make a wedge to stop, parallel to slide fast, 
balance body weight etc.” I thought that was easy, sensed no
difficulty at all, but reckoned it to be a great fun moving fast. 
But the outcome shaped differently. The moment I released 
the lift handle the slope seemed to tilt precariously. I felt being
dragged by gravity and rushing down-slope at an incredible
speed with the arms flailing wildly. I tried hard to maneuver
my legs properly for the skis to make an wedge to decelerate,
but I couldn’t. Panic set in. On an impulse I jammed the knees 
together with all my might. The skis closed, crossed each other.
They didn’t stop my slide, but made me airborne instead. I 
landed on my back and slid a long while face-up. Finally, I came
to a complete stop when my head bumped gently against the
safety barrier. I lay there covered in scraped snow for how long
I didn’t know. The skis I saw pointed skyward. Through their gap
I found the smiling face of my friend simply peering down at me. 
He dryly asked, “ Are you OK?” I said, “ Yes, so far.” “You should
thank God, you didn’t break your ankles”. Surely, I was lucky,
although my skiing career got frozen forever on that snowy 
winter’s eve.

legs forgot the ground
snow whispered beneath the back…
fate turned frozen world
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

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