Spiti Valley - Treacherous terrain,daredevil driving, picturesque peaks

I am writing this blog 2 months post travel to Northeeastern part of Himachal Pradesh- Spiti Valley - for 2 reasons 1.one feels good about An adventure after the rigours are over 2.some bad parts of the trip fade over and the good parts get glossier in our heads with time This circuit is along the neck of India, almost kissing China was envisioned,planned and executed completely by Amol. I was so ignorant that I did not even know that, this was a road trip. Importantly that Amol would drive us all the way in the Himalayas. So instead of the dreamy kissing the neck, it was a trip that goes for your jugulars- definitely not for the faint hearted Chandigarh- We landed and dived right into Pal Dhaba's original butter chicken. Highly recommended by all (even Indigo inflight magazine recommends it) and in my opinion definitely avoidable. Delhi belly just moved north and gastronomically, all blasted southwards. But not to be miffed we seasoned travellers hurtled up the Shivaliks to Shimla in a temporary registered Thar.(We found many more such temp reg vehicle in the hills,apparently to save on taxes during interstate transit).

The Thar was so new that even the plastic sheets were not taken off the seats, which just added to the discomfort of the growling bowels. Also the self drive car hire owner came across as this usual sweet Punjabi uncle and hence earned inversely proprtional distrust and suspicion from me. My dictum in life: If anything is too good to be true, then probably it is. Our first night stay was just outside Shimla, a bit off the road.A good host, clean rooms, breathtaking views, home cooked meals. The temple bells rang in the misty hills, the source apparently a short hike to a Hanuman Mandir and my first of many Marriage advice from my son. While I floated like a leaf carried by the wind, up the hill , Amol huffed - puffed and when he could do no more , we started to argue. Adi was like ,"Dad always tries to measure up to Amma's madness but it is never enough for her aka me." A happy marriage has to come with low expectations and even lesser efforts. Maybe. We did reach the temple and a compromise to behave and reign it in. The night view of the lighted Shimla church and the crowded hill town from afar was the start of spectacular views of this trip. Whoever said Shimla is ravaged by rampant tourism has to see this. Amol couldnot sleep well that night but I attributed it to the butterflies related to Pal Dhaba and the journey ahead. And I took a teen's marriage advice too seriously. Lesser the effort and concern for the spouse happier the martiage. I slept well unconcerned by the propped up heaving big man next to me. The dawn brought us our four wheel drive. A big butch car, with 2 and a half working seatbelts, a friendly but crazy hill driver.He had to share the car till the end of the day. Also we got introduced to other vehicles and fellow drivers in our convoy. They were young, unkempt, aggressive in words,actions and driving. I instantly named them "Thar guys"(7 men indistinguishably in form and unkemptness) "Guj gang"-(a troublesome car that they dragged from Delhi to save some pennies, a chiseled macho vain man and 3 minions.By Arjun Reddy logic - good looking people surround themselves with definitely less than good looking people to look even better. Anyways these minions took pics of the vain guy from all angles. So they had a 100 photos of each pose. Good thing was that I could borrow them to get good pics of our 2/3rds photo averse family. Our ride was middle aged in car and character.We skipped the Shimla traffic and saw the landscape change from conifer trees to small bushes and meadows.

The rocky overhangs and the natrow roads made their apperance from Day 1. BRO -Border road organisation does a commendable job of making and maintaining the mountain roads .The apple plantations were so many that the whole world could feed on a apple diet and there will be some to spare. We reached Raksham village named after a stone bridge by nightfall but in time to witness a local wedding and all the Himachali folks in their finery. I read later that Kinnaur district has the age old tradition of polyandry and adelific form aka common wife of brothers- ring a bell- Draupadi. These parts has housed the Pandava brothers and Co. during their exile and trace this custom to them. We had a changeover of guides and this time was Mr Sunil, a man of few words and nerves of steel.When things got bad he would remark,"Spiti kiya jaisa lagna chahiye"

Chitkul -the last village on the Indian side of the Indo-China border. A glamping site, bonfire, and biting cold air. Daru and sutta went around but not without me being judgy. I named them the sutta gang and the name stuck till ..... In the luxe camp we 3 cuddled and lulled to a oxytocin rich sleep. Amol was propped up and worried.And he decided to wake me up this time. His oxygen sats had dropped to 65% and he was finding it difficult to breathe. In my sleep I asked him to do recruitment exercises and take an acetazolamide. He slept well after this and I slept non plussed just as adviced by my teen son.A teen who has to be reminded to catch a flight in time but will dole out marriage advice. The problem is not him. It is that we after 20 years of experience, still need marriage advice. I got up early, bright eyed , bushy tailed and went for a solo walk towards the village. A gurgling Baspa river on one side, sun rising over snow peaked mountains, colourful birds, green meadows, wild rose bushes. Pity these sights are 4000kms away. 2 kms later I was joined by a local, friendly enough to scare me back to the camp. A Hot water bath, yummy parathas, social media aware camp boys (who make gram worthy bytes from all tourists) later we left this abode. Amol took charge of the wheel, foung some brake pad niggles,Sunil giving some useful insights,and after some mandatory sign post pics we hurtled on the mountain roads. We fixed the brake pads in a garage that overlooked a hanging bridge,under a walnut tree , overhung by hydrangea blooms. Btw snow peaked mountains are a given in this road trip. The most picturesque garage in the whole world . Garage "muy bonito".

Khab sangam bridge- This is where Spiti river joins the Mansarovar lake originating Sutlej river. Besides being a good photo point, a small underbridge eatery also whipped up some local dishes for us. Adi had a mountain rule- we have to try Maggi at every eat stop. So Maggi, local sweet n spicy dumplings were washed down with the tastiest apricots(khubbani in the local lingo) and dried apples sold by pretty sunkissed wrinkled vendors and we had left Kinnaur district and sped along spiti.

Lots of hydroelectricity plants and their creative warning sogns kept us company on this stretch.

Nako village-Right on the neck of the Indian map has a lake that freezes in winter and hosts ice skating. The village was quaint and the air was infused with dung smells. Villagers keep their cattle in the basement and live in the floor above them. The biogas keeps their hearth warm.

Spiti river( a tributary of Sutlej) accompanied us throughout this road trip. I would describe this river as "fuming with bad blood". Let me explain. The river is turbulent and churning grey with the black mountain silt. If a crocodile strayed here by chance he would be blinded by the silt and end up with a ton of mud in his mouth remarked our teen during our "what ifs" conversations in this long long ride. This river has inspired spiritual quests for over a 1000 years. Tabo, Kaza, Dhankar monastrieries are testimony to this.

I wanted to run after a donkey that had strayed from his folks and Amol kindly obliged. I scared the poor beast away. Excess of adrenaline,dopamine,oxytocin,serotonin in the lack of oxygen makes one go cuckoo. Though this drive was supposed to be in a convoy with 3 other vehicles and Sunil in a trailer, it was hardly so. The partial pressure of oxygen in these parts is low but as the air got thinner the "sutta gang" hiked up their fags.Also they wanted to hurtle down the treacherous slopes at speeds that our family car refused to keep up. We were given walkies that did not work and whats app group updates were patchy. It was fun in a way because it was just us and the endless mountain roads. Sunil suggested we take a detour to see a mummy in Gue village. Apparently an i phone can catch Chinese phone network here.The drive was at the end of the day, we were tired and Spiti was a dangerous black along the darkening day and the roads were no longer under BRO jurisdiction. This means rubbles are the road. At the end of this lay a tourist trap. An excuse of a monastery, mummy validated by "Oxford university" of California

The night at Tabo monastry was the most urban of all our stays. Buffet style dinner and chicken(welcome in any form) had us tummy happy. Amol sats had gotten better. Now we played this "who has the best oxygen sats" and I always won. Adi not to accept defeat stung at me that I was sucking out all their oxygen. The mountains have light till late and early sunrises. The monastery is the oldest operational Bhuddist Monastery with student monks. Early morning prayers in a dark sanctum set to rhythm with Bhuddhist chants, the fading Thanka paintings on scrolls and wooden columns , cute round red faced kids, extra furry but severely matted mountain dogs..I even wanted to bring one pup back home and Amol humoured me with pet adoption queries. Sunil shot them down instantly citing inhospitable coastal climates for these fur balls would be a death knell...mind marvelled while my body grovelled.

Dhankar Ghompa- Dhan means cliff and Kar means fort. A fort literally hanging off a cliff( so was everything else on this trip) housed a white Bhuddhist monastery.We had a lunch break here and drove up and some more up to reach Kaza. In Kaza everything was world's highest - petrol pump,restaurant, post office,motorable roads. If one sneezed here then you have achieved the distinction of having sneezed at the highest human inhabitation.

The mountain roads are so narrow that when one has to give way to an oncoming vehicle, which is often,one of vehicles has to have 2 of its wheels off the ledge dangling dangerously. A complicated moving forward and reversing retinue (akin to the mating rituals of birds and bees) was performed each time to give way.

Also We spotted some mountain Ibis and witnessed their nimble yet sure footed jumps cross the cliffs.

Our homestay at Kaza was the warmest of all our stays. Our host made us some local delicacies.The pahadi food is spicy and rich and unique.

Hikkim , Komic and Lanza were in a circuit around Kaza.Beauty beyond words. We posted postcards to F&F from the world's highest PO One of the sutta gang cars in the convoy met with an accident and they had to cough up a lakh and waste a lot of time at the local police station(world's highest mind you) With slightly dampened spirits we drove away from Kaza.

Kye Monastery - The biggest , over 3 floors, and a training centre belonging to the Gelugpa sect. Picturesque and peaceful. We met a lot of senior citizens from Ladakh on a pilgrimage here and greeted all with joyous "Julle"

Chicham bridge-The bridge is at a staggering height of 13596 ft and connects the two villages named Chicham and Kibber. A 1000 ft deep gorge and hot Maggi upstairs set the mood for some romantic captures on Asia's highest bridge.The gorge below is known by the name of Samba Lamba Nallah; the making of this bridge cuts down the journey from Kibber to Losar by 40 km.

Losar-Amol got a pic at the milestone of this village for the antihypertensive losartan that goes by the tradename Losar and the nephrologist that he is.

We saw a mountain stream hydroelectric powered contraption to continiously rotate the Bhuddhist prayer drum at a monastery here.Supplies and roads are open only for 3 months a year(July,Aug,Sept). A sparse population of a couple of hundreds,one can hear the sound of silence . The preicipotous black ravines echoes sounds 3 times apparently and each rock to a speck of dust in this cold desert is unique. Maggi in the mountains as we ascended in altitude just got magical.

We had to go through Kumzum pass to reach the final destination Chandrataal lake.Our convoy was more scattered than ever. The Guj gang car needed resuscitaion and Sunil was torn between his car kids. He stuck to the sick car and let the healthy 2 drive on.Sutta gang unperturbed by the accodent or just false bravado just sped. And we were boldened by an uneventful 1000kms of mountain roads at half Everest altitudes. There was some precipitation along the way. Kumzum pass passed by in ethereal driving bliss set to pace with intimate family conversations over lovely snacks and even better snow pics.

The views and photos just on this stretch made this entire trip surreal. We had to make way for some HRTC buses . My heart was filled with pride and awe for these divine modern day Garudas and Airavats. Some tempo travellers too went past us. With precipitation roads got muddier and GPS signal weaker. We finally were on the road to Chandrataal guessing by the mules and tents on the way.We caught up with Sutta gang during their sutta break and they said that our camp was just ahead. And just ahead our car skid. Amol also lost his bearings. We realised that I was of little help in this slush-mud-rain-car crisis.I tried to move a big stone to create an alterante path for our car. A shepherd helped me and I swear I had a glimpse of tha "Good Shepherd " that day in the mountains. 15 minutes of helplessness (felt like an eternity ) and finally Amol gathered his wits about him and the car got past with one last hurrah and we finally reached our camp site soaked in rain and anxiety but safe and sound. Sutta gang welcomed us warmly and during small talk Amol discovered they were IITians. Amol's heart sank to his knees. Being parents to an IITian we foresaw our son's future in them. And it was not an encouraging one..... While we warmed ourselves in the campfire we met friendly Americans and a father son duo on bikes. We shared stories of the treacherous routes and felt less bad with each one of our experiences.I had even started to give Amol some gyaan about reading theory of mountain driving before he exposed all of us to this perilous journey. Sunil came with the Guj gang much later and much harassed. So I didnot launch an attack on him for abandoning us but made myself clear that we will stick to the convoy in every sense of the word and road from now on.

We all went in a convoy to Chandrataal , a moon shaped mountain lake with clear emarald waters , got over a 100 photos, and returned safely back to the camp.

The drive down to Manali was probably the most rugged, took a toll on my lower back,we yearned for the coast and curd rice, but we did drive in a convoy. Sunil signed off and we all bid adieu to our fellow car mates and the hills and parted ways. And we kissed the mountain air goodbye one last time and thanked Hidimba for the safe sojourn. Our experience of the mountains may be unique to our family but the magic is universal. Mountains are magestic and its moods are whimsical and I am in awe of the first and humbled by the later. So long.

Adi takes a flight

Adi 2sem finished uneventfully and it was time to get home. He first got us to book tickets a week after exams citing hostel room change and some miscellaneous but "important to him, irrelevant to us" reasons. I used all my "Maa ki Mamta" and got him to predate this by 4 days.He agreed and before the end of the phonecall Amol got the flights changed. This meant he had to pack his stuff and leave it in the new hostel room that was not yet allotted(IITB has strange operational delays like that, for eg ID cards took 2 sems to issue.) all in 24hours and catch the flight. 24 hours is also the time frame engg students study for any exam. By extension of this universal law I argued it was ample time to wrap up stuff and head home. I got down to making my dream reel on insta with K3G song in the background welcoming my "laal" back home.The whole world had to know about the Mama Drama queen.Modakam had to be Adi readied, snack boxes were refilled , Amol had to move out of Adi's bathroom, Adi's room had to messed up a bit (too sterile a room turns off hostelites I have heard, and with the welcome placard to be waved at the airport made, I began the countdown.I felt Every minute pass by that day and waited by watching some DDLJ on TV(I watch DDLJ for every emotion). Life was too good to be true. I felt like Waheeda Rehman dancing in Guide Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai Aaj phir marne ka irada hai Aaj phir jeene ki tamanna hai Aaj phir marne ka irada hai Apne hi bas mein nahi main Dil hai kahin to hoon kahin main The Indigo flight was at 10:30pm at night and last seen by Adi on whatsapp was at 2 pm. Amol had enquired if he will manage the ride to the airport on his own and was replied in the affirmative by the boy at 5:30pm. I kept up the charade of not calling Adi and all communication happened on Whatsapp. 8:45 pm - Amol storms home and in between lots of expletives I gathered Adi was running late.Now when we are proud of ADi's achivements we always call him our respective son. From this minute onwards Adi was referred to as my son.So you get the drift. Amol was shaking with anger while I unleashed all my zen on him and I remained annoyingly calm.I reasoned that all we had to lose was money on the flight bookings but Adi would learn his lesson, from time management to eventually self discipline. My insta reels also were cursed and Amol was convinced that this has resulted in this situation.I was banned from social media.Adi was asked to share live location. The GPS signal was moving in the oppsite direction of the airport. More curses.We spoke to the driver and he rattled off some landmarks and sounded confident about reaching the airport in 20 minutes. 600kms away We just had to trust him with the directions and our son.Amol stress ate and Captain Haddock could have learnt a few curses from Amol.Adi was given instructions to pay the driver in advance and scram for a rapid security clearance at the airport. My zen riled Amol visibly and I was patting myself on the back for not losing my cool. I had indeed become the cool mom. 9:30pm The GPS signal stopped 1 km outside the airport. It refused to budge for 5 minutes. Discounting for a traffic jam and winning with my unruffled zen I tried not to think too much. 10 minutes and still no movement. I was getting teeny bit worried.I tried to call Adi. The call connected but no sound. I thought ADi was answering on his wretched headphones and tried calling again. Now no response. Whatsapp call - no response.I challenged Airtel network for the next 10 minutes with 50 phone calls - no response. GPS signal -still stuck. Amol now said that the driver had kidnapped my son and now he wants to see me practice my zen.As these words rolled out- full blown panic- I was splayed out on the floor in front of my Gods to bring my son back to safety. I suspected Amol's lips curled in evil laughter. 9:55pm Adi answers the phone with the words"I am at the boarding and they have not yet announced boarding" hah Aditya's version of the same The day began at about 8 am with me bleary-eyed and dazed. First things first, I started cleaning up the room, an activity I had begun the previous day but still needed to be completed. The moved-up schedule meant that instead of 4 leisurely days to pack up my things like a swaddled babe, I was stacking and shoving like the Brits out of Ireland. Running away from, or rather towards, my personal IRA, I stormed toward the library, benching 225 in books. Procrastinating porter that I was, I had forgotten to return the bloody things. After a hasty lunch at ye olde mess, the next order of business was clothes. The process of folding clothes is usually meditative in its repetitiveness, but not this time. Clothes were not folded so much as squashed into an approximately rectangular shape in rapid succession. Tired and seeing the time left, I decided to take a short nap. The "short" nap ended up taking three precious hours. With no time left to procrastinate, everything had to be kicked into high gear. An hour later, I was done packing and ready to move my stuff to mi casa futura. Finally, I had a bath and freshened up to travel since there were temporarily no taxis to be had. The Taxi drought continued till 7:30 when one lone man arrived, ready to ferry me. Getting on the darkly lit discount Pumpkin carriage, I was already late per the original schedule. After a quick riposte with a guard, I had my worldly belongings shoved into a room that made Tihar jail look palatial, and I was about ready to leave on my jet plane. The taxi apps then decided to play a prank on me. First, the Uber I had booked cancelled on me, which was quickly followed by the Ola guy somehow transmuting a 1-minute distance to a 10-minute distance that refused to change for five. Finally, with my dad screaming instructions in my ear, I girded my loins and ran out to catch an Auto to T1. What followed was an intense ride through Bombay traffic, with the pollution in my hair and far too many vehicles on the road. All the while, my parents were trying to give me a heart attack by proxy. Unfortunately, being Aditya and not Noah, I could not part the sea of cars ahead and had to wait and pray. With five minutes to boarding, I descended upon the airport like a short Viking berserker. Luckily, security was rapidmente, and I got through in time for boarding and some Bhakarwadi on the way.

Another semester draws to an end

While I had serious trouble unhooking the umbilical ties in the first sem, I braved to cut it completely in the 2 sem," one fell swoop". Whoosh. Clean cut. It bled a bit, hurt lots but now I am a healed person. Person. No longer always worried but always right Amma. What led to this small step resulting in a giant leap for my mental peace are the following series of events While we parted at Chandigarh airport, Adi to IITB to start 2sem and us to Goa to continue long distance parenting for yet another sem, our flight was called first. Amol and me dragged our feet to the tarmac while turning back till you can see him no more. And Adi put back his head phones on his ears and turned his attention to the phone even before I had peeled away from the "last hug before we leave" And I am the SRK "dekha na piche mud ke" kinda girl.I was so heart broken.❤️‍🩹😭💔 I must have called Adi a minimum of 1000 times in the 1 sem but not once there was a call from him. When I brought this up with him,(secretly hoping for some praise about my flawless long distance parenting that left my kiddo not wanting for anything) the answer from him was that I never gave him a chance to miss him. A wise mother of 3, adviced me to give him a chance to miss me aka "Dont call him" . What transpired was 240 agonising hours and still no call from him. Not the one to give in, I texted him to call me( technically it still counts as not calling) . I launched a full blown emotional monologue at the unsuspecting boy. 😤For A boy who has survived JEE preps, who can face 200 minutes of grilling by 13 members interview board for a convenor post of a non academic club, this was chicken shit. 🐔🐔I could flap my mad mama hen wings all I wanted, my son's Buddha predisposition just got steelier.🧘‍♂️📿 Amol intervened and extracted once a week phone call from him and I retreated sore and hurt. I was so hurt that I wanted to write a guidebook(blog for now) for mothers like me. As part of research, I spoke to many mothers who like me had boys and had sent them away to study/work. Following are the insights that I gained in these interviews. - 💡No boy calls back home voluntarily just to say he is OK - No boy calls back as long as he is comfortable. Hostel friends,food,monthly money allowances,unlimited data provided in campus keeps them happily ensconsed. - If there is a call, they need something-it could be money,pep talk when they have hit a low(Hey,Parents are still their biggest cheerleaders and are insanely proud of their offspring) - They also call to give some good news about their achievements(Everyday phenomenal is only for Maniacs so these calls are as rare as a meteor shower and equally spectacularly etched in moms memory) - If the parents make a visit to check on the ward they are always busy and if lucky, can clear 15 minutes from their schedule(Interwing Hostel cricket match was 1 ward's excuse for not meeting parents who had travelled 20 hours) -We always had early morning flights to Mumbai and my son's excuse for not being excited to meet us was,"it is too early in the day to be fully awake", not accounting for the fact that grandma fried fish was reheated by Amol at 3am in the morning to reach crisp at 7:45am , 2 taxi rides and a flight away and in time before the 8:00am lecture. I texted him a day in advance for the next visit to fake excitement. Afterall I was from the,"pal bhar ke liye koi hame pyaar karle; Jootha hi sahi" school of parenting. - They are capable of walking to the ends of earth to do stuff that matters to them but a simple task that the parent has asked them to do will not be done(Mine can spin sonnets but will not send a text acknowledging receipt of Modakam Mankurad mangoes hand delivered across 600kms, passed across 6 hands and God knows how many favours Amol had to ask to get this done. When I waited fuming for a couple of days at this ingratitude, only the summer temperatures in Goa soared. English writing section, one had to thank uncle for the gift he had sent, in 50 words for informal letter writing.When I brought this up, he said that this part was axed from his English syllabus. Lame. - Giving them their space and not asking too many prying questions(I can fire 100 questions a minute) makes phone calls super pleasant. - A call or a text from Adi has me upbeat with a song on my lips, and a spring in my step. He always makes my day.C'est la vie. Weird but true. Finally the Bodhi moment was when I heard this 🌳 - A parent needs to cut off the ties for the boy to become the Man he is meant to be.Now this was a new perspective from an experienced long distance parent.She added that once they become the adult they have set out to be, they reconnect. Before I burst with excitement the fine print read, not to expect this for a decade at least. So as I take the curtain call to this Act of parenting, I would like to thank all the moms who have listened to my ranting, had my back and thrown in some hugs. Also a shout out to our tribe that mothers, sometimes smothers and mostly just endures.

Dharamshala-Call of the Hills

One more of my fictitious birthdays that Amol is made to plan and execute to perfect celebrations was this trip to Amritsar and Dharamshala. It helped as the "Border-Gavaskar trophy" was to be played at the highest cricket grounds in the world at Dharamshala. Apparently there is many a slip between Mahaldar holiday plans and BCCI ground realties. The match moved to Indore over poor ground conditions but opened up five divine days of holidays for the Mahaldars

My birthday dinner was the Langar at the Golden temple. A bit of flashback here. Circa 2011,while I battled with my DM residency, long distance parenting, spurned spouse, externship in AIIMS roles, an Aamir Khan tear jerker movie called Taare Zameen Par hit me hard. I was convinced my preschool baby was definitely dyslexic. I wanted Amol to have him evaluated. Now I can count on my fingers of 1 hand , the things Amol has refused me till now and this was one of them. In this background Amol n me visited the Golden temple and in my mind I thought that if all turns out well with Adi and he reaches academic excellence, we will all make a trip back here. I did not voice this out to anyone lest it got jinxed. A good 12 years later, Adi in IIT, Amol unaware of my golden vow planned this trip. Universe always conspires to have our deepest desires fulfilled

The airBnB overlooking the temple helped us catch the Amrit Vela kirtan at the Golden temple . Crowds at wee hours in the morning, dawn at the temple to the chants of " Ik Onkar Satnam" (AR Rehman immortalised it in Rang de Basanti for the non Sikh folks) and "Karah Prasad" rich in ghee made the experience surreal.

A quick visit to Jalianwala Bhag in the morning, Amritsari lassi and Kulcha chole, shopping also factored in completed our Amritsari leg of our holiday.We thought the rest of the trip would be gastronomically this satisfying but I was mistaken on 2 counts. I came down with a stomach bug which later caught up with Adi too and we had more cyclopams than momos on the trip.And the blessed Amritsari kulche's taste apparently stays within the 10 km radius of the city. We tried Kulche at dhaba, fancy restaurant, roadside cafe, inhouse airBnB kitchen but were left wanting. I could do this 3000km trip again just to have the roadside butter doused kulcha chole at the railway station road. A road trip to Dharamsala in a car with only 2 seatbelts for 4 passengers had me anxious throughout. Our driver Mr Sonuji, as unique as the Amritsari kulche tried to assuage my fears but of no avail. But it was more than compensated with the yellow mustard blooms providing the back drop for DDLJ poses.

Amol quipped that if non availabilty of the seat belts was the only thing to complain about the entire trip, then we have indeed had a wondeful one.

Our airBnB in Dharamasala, Guleria villa was a sprawling mansion with an inhouse waterfall, swimming pool( after my Nashik hypothermia induced near death experience I vowed off non temperature controlled pools), view of the snow peaks from every nook, window, manned by nice caretakers. Adi set up his "just out of packaging" Apple Macbook Pro in the balcony overlooking the Dhauladar ranges "because he could",but what transpired was he obviously forgot to get it back in while we went out for dinner, and it had to obviously rain, and obviously with Adi's Buddha like calmness he casually slipped it in mid conversation and it obviously evoked an inversely proportional opposite reaction from us,our caretaker had to breakin to rescue "precious" and calm our frayed nerves over the frantic phone call that "sirf boonda boondi tha"

Day 1 - cycling around the Dhauladhar ranges with a part time techie, full time guide was the perfect way to break into this lovely landscape. MTB, steep upslopes covered in the lowest gears, heart rate at the highest , more vultures on 1 tree than I had seen in my entire life time,pinecone fir trees, village roads, Kendriya vidyalya kids singing the prayer song so out of tune, lots of photos, home made poha were the highlights of our cycling trip

Gyoto monastery, full of boy monks, scriptures and mobiles competing for the monks attention, big Bhuddha. Spicy Thupka made worse by adding more chilly sauce at the behest of a friendly Tibetan in the cafe did no good to my inflamed bowels.

Norbulingka institute showcasing some of the finest artwork of the Tibetan culture, another big Bhuddha - A medicine Bhuddha holding a bowl of herbs , life size paintings of Buddhist teachings and beliefs, a cafe that thankfully served soothing food like pastries and pies. I also bought silver prayer wheel earrings and felt one with the surroundings. Shopping meets Spirituality. My misplaced phyto enthusiam landed me into voluntarily picking out stinging nettles aka "bichua patti" . It burns like the sting of a scorpion and the more I yelped , the other doctor , Dr Amol gave me "gyan" rather than an antidote. After some time the poison and me numbed out.

Google your trip on the go had us undertake a long windy drive to Masror rockcut temple built in Nagara style architechture dedicated to Shiva n family, Vishnu and family . It is picturesque to say the least and the fact that it has withstood the ravages of nature and tourism speaks a lot about this place.

Another long drive later (distances are short but the hilly roads take an awful long time) we reached Kangra fort to have the gates shut on our faces. Tired boys and still enthu for photos me, makes a lethal combo . I quietly snuck in and the boys had no excuse but to follow. What followed was non cooperation movement launched jointly by the boys for photos. Precious golden hour minutes were wasted in arguments. The fort had endured many battles. Originally built by the Katoch Rajputs ,it changed multiple hands, namely the Mughals, Sikhs,Gurkhas and like all things Indian ,finally landed with the British. Now the mute walls witnesses wedding shoots, music shoots and the Mahaldar skirmish too.Lots of photos later (They finally relented and Amol uses a pic clcked here as his dp still) and having thoroughly exhaused the boys we called it a day

Day 2- Trek to Triund. 10 years ago Amol n me scaled the Himalyas from Manali. I always wanted to experience this with my son. The stomach bug got the better of Adi. Amol enthusiasm to trek and the love for his wife quickly ebbed by the time we reached Bhagsu Nag. Amol parked himself at the base camp citing spiritual pursuits from the Bhuddhist chants that echoed from Mcleodgunj below. Adi climbed up inspite of the stomach bug but was quick to shoot down my future trek plans (I had done 1 with spouse, 1 with son and I wished to do 1 with my grandchildren) Rhododendrons that look like roses on trees, the sweet air of the mountains,cute mountain goats, some rowdy ones too, mules that carry gas cylinders and other burden causing a traffic jam on the hills, dogs that follow trekkers to the summit in the hope of some tidbits and do it effortlessly over and over again, colourful houses of Mcleodgunj on one side and the snow peaked Dhauladhar ranges on the other makes the 10 km trek worthwhile.

It is also a lot more fun to tell fellow trekkers that they have a long way to go while we have almost descended. The thing about treks is that we suffer while climbing but reminisce them fondly once we get back home. The sweat of efforts is quickly dried by the sweet mointain air. The moments of exhaustion are flossed over by the beautiful pictures (which I like to review over n over again) We celebtrated our scaling the summit with a Cadbury silk like brand ambassadors of Modelez Intl

Amol got stung here by the same nettle sister leaves and this time I felt happy at this revenge of the sisterhood . After reuniting with Amol and garam Dal chawal, we saw the Namgyal monastery, the residence of THe Dalai LAma. The monasteries are full of boy monks that it is hard to believe there are any lady Tibetans. It is sad to see a generation of refugees who will never know their motherland. Amol always says it is better to die in ones own motherland than live a refugee. I thought it was too radical till now.

Day 3- The boys wanted a non activity day and I coulnot have agreed more.

We walked to a Shiva temple by the river and visited the war memorial and tea gardens in the evening. The roads were lined by wild peach trees in full white blossom that they look like they have caught all the falling stars in their branches.

We happenstanced into a Aghanjar Mahadev Temple . Lord Shiva is supposed to have blessed Arjun with the Gandhiva and wished him luck in the war.An eternal fire burning over a hundred years and a Gupt Shivaling under a huge boulder where we had to crawl in to enter but once in we could sit and pray.,We also braved one last round of momos with the last remaining tablet of cyclopam and with that we bid goodbye to Dharamshala, holidays, Adi and Amritsar in that order and boarded our respective flights out of Amritsar.