The mundanity of daily living at Duke binds us to its walls: There seems to be little to no variation. You wake up in your dorm. You eat at WU. You study at Perkins. You go back to sleep. The cycle repeats. There exist some parameters that perturb this equilibrium, from game days to Friday night-outs, and yet they occur often enough that they bring with them a far more agonizing feeling of the mundane.
Life is a recurring cycle. The time period of this cycle is simultaneously the fastest and the slowest thing we can ever experience. A minute can feel like hours, yet years can feel like seconds. And it shows. Some days in my mind, not a single minute has passed since I was 17: walking the streets of India, dreaming of the origin of stars and staring at hornbills. But, I am not 17: and have not been 17 for some time now. Today, I walk the 10-minute walk from Rubenstein back to Crowell, staring at Orion as I do daily, and ponder metric spaces.
And yet, when it snowed for the first time in a 1000 days, I felt like I was dreaming again. I remember FDOC, and talking to a friend (who then, was probably an amicable stranger, as we all were, and will become) who mentioned their immense sadness for the rarity of snow in Durham. I consoled her (and myself) by saying that if it snows once about every four years, surely we will see it once before graduating, right?
Though I said these words, I couldn’t even bring myself to believe them. Coming from India, the accuracy of a meteorological report for a given day was basically equivalent to blindly throwing a dart on a board meters away after spinning around 30 times. That is, extremely low. So my faith in my own extremely unfound claim was even lower.
Color me surprised, when I find myself witnessing not only one, but three snow days this semester. Of course, it was not the first time in my life I had seen snow. And such was the case for many others. But it did not matter; for we were all in this moment together, witnessing the spirals created by individual snowflakes falling. And for those who had witnessed this chilly embrace for the first time, I’m sure the moment was far more magical than my words can encompass.
Eventually, the novelty wears off. You stop fawning over the way the windows of Rubenstein reflect light upon its entrance, or marvel at the colored sunsets on your way back from Wilson. You stop asking your friends what they’re doing at every breathing moment. You stop going through the Blue Book excitedly, trying to imagine your future at this school. You’re in this moment. And sunlight will pour in again, the sun will set once more, friends will eventually meet, and you will go through classes semester after semester until it ends. In the same vein, the snow will continue swirling around for a couple of hours, classes will be canceled, and we will become indifferent. Right?
Not really. The third snow day of the semester was the most special. And part of the reason why it was so special to me, is that the novelty wore off. And yet, childlike joy and giggles echoed across campus. And I could feel the warmth of the many ways we embrace the weather, and each other. My roommate and I enjoyed the silent wonder of the swirling snow from our windows, as I finished Dazai’s “Blue Bamboo”, and she worked on her multiplexers. Upon leaving the warmth of my cozy room came with a warning: make haste, lest you are confronted with a snowball to your face! Fair play, and so I ran chuckling at the merrymaking ensuing near the Clocktower.
Only after I descended, did I note a fantastic sight: a group playing volleyball as the wind settled snowflakes on our lashes. I can only but applaud their indomitable spirit, and it has now become possibly the single best exemplar for whenever I introduce Duke as “lighthearted, sporty”. Shared headphone cords and beanies staring out of the windows near Cafe, with hands curled around vanilla lattes. Green woolen turtlenecks, and horn-rimmed glasses, leaning on the pillars in Vondy with a book in hand. Plaid wool skirts, dewy hair and black puffer coats, making snowmen with light-up devil horns. Shimmering snowflakes refract the light of the street lamps as they fall. Miniature snow people and snow ducks line the benches of WU. Cardboard sleds. Laundry basket sleds. Snow sliding from the pine trees. Frozen ponds.
And these little moments compound. For me, an escape from the mundane is experiencing this. For in these moments, Duke students become children again. In a world constantly burning (from willful ignorance to active maleficence), there are enough stressors. For a student population that wants to change the world (hopefully for the better), these circumstances feel no less than being Atlas, carrying the burden of the present and the future. So, if nature gives us the grace, a chance to live Ferris Bueller’s Day Off: embrace the cold. Let the snow fall in your eyes as you walk. Let your hands go red as you prepare that snowball. Let yourself lie down and stare at the stars as you accelerate down the Garden’s slopes. For if we must imagine Sisyphus happy, this is the only way I can do it.
Shambhavi Sinha is a Trinity sophomore.
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