The cold mountain winds blew
the dusty mountains stared
the blue sky watched from above
the turquoise river snaked
bearing a charm of the enchanted land
I watched, starry-eyed, the whole drama unfold.
Spiti – the cold desert valley in the Himalayas in Himachal Pradesh is filled with picture-postcard spots at every turn. It seems all the reasons that made the famous writer – Rudyard Kipling, describe Spiti as ‘a world within a world’ and ‘a place where the gods live’, decades ago, still hold true.
The travel journal (that exists in great detail in my mind and heart) has some beautiful stories and memories of travel to Spiti. Camping under the stars and walking along the blue waters of Chandratal – the lake of Moon, journeying in an overpacked bus – the only one connecting two far-off destinations, tasting the finest Himachali apples in a remote village, trekking up a hill overlooking a sleepy little village high up in the Himalayas, an inspiring and insightful conversation with a young monk in the centuries-old Ki Monastery, watching a dark mountain sky bejeweled with constellations lying on the back against the cold yet embracing earth somewhere in a picturesque Himalayan hamlet.
This is just a random picture clicked while traveling on some dusty roads to some remote corner of Spiti. All through the travel, I realized the valley is full of such scenic landscapes and it just keeps getting better and better every few kilometers.