White Washed

Snow came to New York with all its swirl,  swish and swash. Persisted the whole night. Left the city, snow-cladded like a maiden making her way to the altar to be wed-locked 'till death do us apart'.

Left the city at an utter standstill until, like some rodents peeping their head out from their hideouts, when silence prevails, neighbors ventured out with shovels to commence their Winter Ritual. I followed suit. 

Cladded in my warmest, I ventured out with shovel in my hand to tame the White World sprawled outside as far as my eyes could see. With polite Good Morning to the neighbor I put myself to task. But soon realized the dilemma; there was so much snow it was hard to decide where to put the snow that I shoveled out from my drive way. Peeked at my neighbor, like a schoolboy would do in his exam time and saw him making a trench out of the snow in his door way. I did the same.

My car was a big mould of snow...the windshield wipers protruding out like grasshopper's antenna. If shoveling my doorway was physical labor, I thought, rescuing my car from under the snow, unscathed, would need an artistic talent.

Ventured out couple of streets down and realized, I was not even scratching the surface. Streets were strewn with abandoned cars, buses and taxis. Walking was an Everest Expedition.