Lakshmi stared out of the window of her husband’s ancestral home. The afternoon sun was beating down with great fury. The schoolchildren were huddled under the shade of the bus stop, sipping ice mittai (ice lollies) of vibrant hues and sticking their stained tongues at each other. Drops of coloured ice decorated the dusty floor of the bus stop. Lakshmi’s mouth salivated every time a syrupy drop fell to the ground. It took her back to the days when she stole little coins from her grandfather’s writing desk to buy glossy, orange-flavoured ice mittai.

Lakshmi came to this sleepy village of Chitharal at the age of eighteen when her husband Venu took her hand in marriage – forty-five years of quotidian life had passed by in a blur. Her children, Akshaya and Jishnu, grew up in this house. They had made their homes in Bangalore and visited Chitharal twice a year with their families during vacations. Lakshmi herself had never crossed the perimeters of the village. She knew a big world existed outside this tiny hamlet and had long wished to explore the wonders out there.

She was delighted that her dream was going to be a reality soon.

*

“Adhe, do you know what happened today?” she began as Venu entered the house. He raised his hand and said, “Lunch first. I am starving!” She knew her husband wouldn’t listen to anything until the growling mouse inside his stomach was fed something.

She served him lunch and sat on the bench near the dining table.

“Oh! listen, we are going to Kashmir!” Lakshmi announced as Venu dug into the fish curry and rice.

“…”

“Jishnu had called in the morning. They are planning a trip and want us to join.” She looked at him eagerly. He was engrossed in removing a bone from the fish.

“Are you listening?”

“Hmm…”

“So, can we go?”

“Let them go, they are young. We have our lives to lead here.”

“What life? You go to the panchayat hall and spend all day with your friends. I have nowhere to go! Not a soul to talk to!” Lakshmi said with a whimper.

“Ah… now don’t start your lament,” Venu said, licking his fingers. “Why Kashmir, of all places?”

“Jishnu has done all the research. It’s perfectly safe. Didn’t you see it in the news? – so many tourists are flocking to Kashmir nowadays.”

“It would be extremely cold! If it is Ooty or Kodaikanal, we could think about it.”

“Oh God! Why are you sulking like this? Imagine being surrounded by ice all the time! How wonderful it would be!”

“It would be wonderful when you get asthma and end up in hospital or even better if you got shot down by terrorists!” Venu smirked as he got up to wash his hands.

“Shh! It a God-sent chance for us to see a world outside Chitharal!” Lakshmi said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t spoil it, please!”

“What will our relatives say? Our neighbours? Going for a pleasure trip at this age!”

“We will tell everyone that we are accompanying them to take care of the grandchild.”

Venu closed the tap and shook his hands in the wash basin. He then wiped them on the sides of his mundu. She was annoyed by his lack of interest but knew her husband too well to fuss about it further.

“I don’t know what has got into your head,” he muttered.

“Whatever it is, I will make sure it enters your head, too,” Lakshmi said with a chuckle.

“Mother and son have charted out everything! And just want me to say Yes.”

“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“As if you will let me be if I say No,” Venu said, shrugging his shoulders.

*

Lakshmi stared at the enormous metallic bird in awe. She had seen aeroplanes only on television, and they always appeared diminutive against the backdrop of the sky.

Lakshmi and Venu had arrived in Bangalore two days ago. Their son Jishnu had planned a tour package for seven days. Amrita, their daughter-in-law, took them shopping and bought all the winter wear they needed for the trip. “We are going to fly, Ammumma!” remarked Chinnu, their granddaughter, as they boarded the flight. Lakshmi folded her palms and smiled at the air hostess at the door.

As the plane took off the runway, Lakshmi felt her heart beat fast and her legs tremble. She shut her eyes tight and clutched Venu’s arm as if that was the only way she could prevent herself from falling off the plane. Jishnu kept saying, “Amma, breathe in, breathe out,” mimicking a yoga teacher. But she just held her breath and tightened her grip on her husband’s hand. Venu himself was feeling quite nervous. Aeroplanes were, of course, meant for youngsters. For the umpteenth time, he chided himself for agreeing to this trip.

After what seemed like an epoch, Lakshmi opened her eyes to Amrita’s soft but coaxing voice. “Amma, look here!” she said, pointing at something through the small, oval window. Lakshmi craned her neck and looked out. She saw the most marvellous sight – tiny squares of brown, yellow, and green lands scattered amidst cute, off-white cement structures, black serpentine roads, little puddles of water, and fluffy white cotton candies floating around listlessly. She was on cloud nine!

*

The gondola descended on a boundless carpet of snow. “Ah! White heaven!” Lakshmi exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief. Venu, too, felt a child-like wonder creep into his self. He smiled indulgently, digging his palms into the warm pockets of his sweater.

This was the first time since his college days that Venu wore pants.

“Look at you acha! Anyone will say you are my brother!” Jishnu exclaimed. Venu looked at his wife and flashed a proud smile. “What about me? Your younger sister?” asked Lakshmi, showing off her salwar kameez and shoes. Chinnu giggled, covering her mouth with her hands.

“This is surreal!” exclaimed Lakshmi, scooping up a handful of snow.

“Don’t remove your gloves!” Venu said with a look of concern.

She rolled the snowball in her hands and threw it at him. He moved back, startled. Chinnu followed suit, and Venu ducked his head. It was Lakshmi’s turn now. Every time a snowball hit her, Lakshmi squealed in joy. Jishnu, Amrita, and Chinnu tried their hands at skiing. Chinnu guffawed every time Amrita slipped and fell in the snow. Lakshmi and Venu sat at the tea stall, watching them in amusement. The warmth of Kawah, the local tea, and steaming hot Maggi permeated their bodies and calmed their souls.

Jishnu had pre-booked a taxi for their local sightseeing. They drove past four-hundred-year-old Chinar trees, lavender fields, and sparkling streams.

“Is the city always patrolled by the army? Wasn’t there firing in Baramulla last week? Are there Kashmiri pandits in this neighbourhood?” Venu had a flurry of questions for Irfan, their Muslim taxi driver. Lakshmi prodded his sides. “Keep your mouth shut if you care for your life!” she whispered into his ears.

Venu was intrigued to see men and women dressed in oversized woollen clothes with hands tucked inside. He opened his mouth to ask why their hands were missing but pursed his lips when Lakshmi rolled her eyes at him. The driver smiled and said, “Bhai saab, they are carrying Kangri, burning coal inside their overdress.”

“And that dress is called Pheran,” he explained, much to Venu’s relief. “We have come all the way from Kerala!” Venu told the driver with a proud smile. “Inshallah! I hope this trip will be memorable for you, saab,” he said.

In the days that followed, they rode up the snow-clad hills of Sonamarg, strolled on lush green meadows of Betab valley, wet their feet on pristine lakes of Pahalgam, soaked in the beauty of Gurez valley, went for Shikara rides on Dal Lake, plucked apples from orchards, relished Wazwan dinners and shopped for Pashmina shawls. Lakshmi and Venu experienced unparalleled joy and calm like never before. Even a free fall from a pony did not dampen Lakshmi’s spirits, though she needed a hot pack and Volini to nurse her swollen arms and legs.

“How was the trip, saab? memsaab? Did you enjoy?” asked Irfan on the seventh day.

Lakshmi clasped her glove-clad hands and said, “I never thought I would experience heaven when I was alive!”

Irfan smiled.

“Yes, a trip of our lifetime indeed!” Venu said, turning back and smiling at Jishnu and Amrita.

“I want juice!” Chinnu announced, seated on her grandfather’s lap.

“Any shop nearby?” Jishnu asked.

“I’ll get you juice, gudiya!” Irfan told Chinnu and stopped the car in front of a wayside shop.

“Amma, what will you have?” Jishnu asked as Lakshmi stretched her feet. “Ice Mittai!” she said, her eyes crinkling into a broad smile. Venu slapped his hand on his forehead. The taxi shook as everyone burst into laughter.

*