STORY TIME: Let it snow

She smiled at me, somewhat smug, as if she knew something I didn’t, and was not at liberty to divulge to my ignorant self that knowledge.
I stared at her, and said impatiently, “What is it, Daadi?”“Ah, but that is for you to discover, my child,” was her reply. I was beginning to get annoyed. My grandmother, who we addressed as Daadi, had just told me of a ‘treasure’, that was hidden somewhere on top of the Torghar Mountain, on the plains of which we lived.
According to her, whoever found the mysterious treasure would put an end to the misery which had befallen the people of Dera Nagarshah some eight years ago. I wanted to be that person.
I stared at her suspiciously, wondering whether she was just exploiting my fertile imagination or trying to send me on a wild goose chase. As her solemn eyes readily stared back at me, I asked her, “So Daadi, if there really is a treasure up there, how come no one has ever tried to look for it before?” I asked casually, not wanting to give her the impression that I was interested in doing the task.

“That, my boy, is because no one else knows about it,” was her answer.
“Oh, are you suggesting it might be a ‘Divine Revelation’, this piece of knowledge that only you possess?” I inquired sceptically.
“Maybe,” she replied, this time with a hint of seriousness on her face. Her eyes bore into mine.
“You know it’s got to be you, don’t you boy?”
Not understanding the significance of her words, I nodded. I desperately wanted to be the saviour of my people. I, 12-year-old Asfandyar Wali, did not want my family or my friend Saadiq’s for that matter, to continue suffering. Eight years ago, when I had been a mere tyke, all water supplies to my village got cut off. Daadi claimed there was a way to make God happy again — the so-called treasure. I was willing to try it. The previous year, my little sister Kako had died because of dehydration. I did not want to lose another sibling.

The next day, after a heated argument with my parents — which included Mum tearfully saying, “Asfi, you are our only son. If something happens to you, what will become of us?” and my patiently explaining that it was for their own good — I set off on my journey.
I climbed the mountain, a long, tedious process which took me an entire day. Finally, at the onset of dusk, my fingers gripped the last rock, and I hoisted myself on top of the mountain. I gaped at my surroundings. The land was barren, and there was no bird or animal in sight, much less a plant.

But in the midst of the wasteland, stood a tree, bare of leaves and fruits — except for a single apple which seemed miraculously fresh. I gazed at it intently. I had not eaten a proper meal since the previous day. I plucked the inviting fruit off and bit into it. Ah! How sweet its juice was. Overcome with emotion, I said a quick prayer to God, thanking Him.
Suddenly, a heavy wind began to blow. The sky turned grey with clouds. I became frightened, and thought I should best get home. So, I began climbing down, albeit with a heavy heart, for I felt I had disappointed Daadi, not having completed the task of finding the treasure.
Upon reaching the plains, I felt a small pellet of ice fall on me. I looked up, and before I knew it, I was being pelted by snow.
I ran home and saw everyone gathered outside, holding their hands out for snowflakes. They were in a state of utmost bliss. I saw Daadi and my smile turned upside down. Running towards her, I whispered sadly, “I’m sorry, Daadi, I didn’t find the treasure.”
Her face broke into a huge smile. “But you did, my child. You see…” she said, pointing at the snow, “He in the heavens is no longer angry with us.” I realised she was right. The drought had finally ended .