If you’re a 90s kid that grew up in Kathmandu Valley, chances are we share a vivid memory of St. Valentine’s Day.
‘Ah, hai…hami sano huda valentines day ma snow pareko thiyo!’ (Yeah, when we were little, there was snow fall on valentine’s day!).
Each year as February approaches, so does this little memory hidden at the back of our minds. It’s unusual for Kathmandu to witness snowfall. But about a decade earlier, on a cold cloudy day of February the 14th, as it poured hard, bits of snow touched the ground. For many of us, just early teenagers back then, it was the very first time we saw snow, even if it melted just as quickly as it fell.
Everyone who remembers has a different narrative to share. Some of them were in grade 6, some in 9. I don’t particularly remember (just lazy to calculate, more particularly) which grade I was in, but it was that year when we shifted to a class from where we could see the Langoor’s cage as our school was close to the central zoo. Drawing a parallel analogy of the animals in the cage and the students inside the classroom was very common. But on that particular day, apart from the Langoors, someone who was by the window shouted in the middle of an on going class that it was snowing.
The class was halted, even the teacher could not do anything for minutes. Perhaps, snow did the trick. Some moved towards the window to have a glimpse. It was indeed, snow; a light layer that was already melting as it was falling.
The teacher settled us back, but the class was still buzzing. From that day onwards it would be That Valentine’s Day when the snow fell.
We were quick to assume that anyone who dated that day, must be very lucky, after all it was snowing. But little did we know that just like the falling snow that changed from water to a white magical substance, change, in all aspects of our lives had been marked ahead.
It will always be that Valentine’s Day when the snow fell.