The Russian Word for Snow

The Russian word for snow is “снег” pronounced as “sneg”. 

I have been lazing off and putting off everything for later, tomorrow and to next time. Not occupied with anything to be busy. I have never been a morning person all my life, but lately I have been lazing off too much. The books that I have picked up from the street library, few books my friend gifted to few books I bought from a bookstore have been standing tall on the shelf for months now. Put aside the idea of reading it, I haven’t even taken a look in a long time. I envy people who read a lot. My younger brother is one of those readers I envy. Enough of my lazy stories! So I decided to read a random book from the shelf.

I picked this book “The Russian Word for Snow by Janis Cooke Newman” way long time back from a street library with a friend while returning home from college. “What kind of book do you like?” and I said I liked something non-fictional.  I flipped few chapters of the book in that library and came with the book to finish it later and I have left it like rest to the ‘next time”. It has taken me couple of months to finish it. It was only a matter of week even if I read few pages a day if it wasn’t for my next time. I don’t really want to say that procrastination is thief of time but definitely Procrastination has elongated the read duration of my 232 paged book. I hope this doesn’t go into the world Geniuses record!!

Okay, back to the book. This book isn’t about the snow, but about a journey of parent reaching to a child named the Russian word for snow. The journey begins when an American couple decides to have a child of their own. Their struggles of not being able to conceive they end up to an adoption agency only vaguely interested in the idea. The child in a videotape is all that takes for them when they decide to adopt. But the journey doesn’t get easier, the very fact that the child is in Russia. Apart from finance and all the official routes they had pass through it takes them enough of waiting and yearning. It kept me on toes, broke my heart when they had to return home leaving the boy in the orphanage after their first visitation, fumed me with anger when the locals charged them $21 for a bottle of water, felt the joy when they finally got the boy home with them. It was worth the read to understand the real struggle of becoming a parent, specifically about the international adoption system and the tensions that a parent has to bear.

When others talk about world I talk about Bhutan (though my knowledge limited) and when other talk about world leaders I talk about our king. Whatever it may be, the one thing I can always do is relate and reflect back on what happens back home. This reading journey piqued a question on what happens to our “Khaw” if there are any in the country. Does someone try reaching them as well?