There’s a moment I return to often—not because it was dramatic, but because it stripped me of every idea I had about strength. The Bhrigu Lake trek wasn’t supposed to be hard. The trail notes called it “moderate.” No death-defying ledges. No ice patches. Just a soft, promising trail through pine forests and wide-open meadows. I packed light—on gear and on expectations. But altitude doesn’t care what you pack. Somewhere after the first climb, my breath tightened. Not tired-tight. Something-is-off tight. My legs dragged. My thoughts …
I Don’t Climb to Reach the Summit. I Climb So I Don’t Abandon Myself Halfway.
Most people think the challenge is the mountain. It isn’t.The real challenge is staying with yourself when it gets hard—when your body wants to stop, when your mind starts spinning stories, and when walking away would be so much easier than walking forward.This isn’t a story about summits. It’s about the distance between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming—measured one uneven, breathless step at a time. I’ve done seven Himalayan treks in the past fifteen and a half months.Not because I’m an adrenaline junkie or looking for transformation. I …
I Didn’t Trek to Heal. I Trekked Because I Was Done Disappearing.
Some mornings, I’d wake up and sit on the edge of the bed, toothbrush in hand, wondering if I had it in me to pretend I was fine again. The pretending was heavier than the silence. It didn’t look like a breakdown. I still showed up. Smiled when expected. Hit deadlines. But under the surface, it felt like something essential had slipped through a crack and I didn’t know how to ask for it back. So I started walking. First out of habit. Then out of restlessness. And then—without knowing why—I signed up for a trek that scared me. Not …
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What a Frozen Tent Taught Me About Staying
I didn’t expect a winter trek to become a mirror. But it did. Somewhere between the wind slicing through my gloves and the nights where sleep simply refused to show up, something quietly shifted. It wasn’t an epiphany. It was the slow-burning kind of knowing that creeps in when your distractions freeze along with your toes. On the first night, while everyone else tucked themselves into borrowed warmth, I stared at the tent ceiling wondering what kind of fool signs up for this kind of discomfort. But there was no running. Just the scratch of …
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Breathlessness, Doubts, and the Unexpected Joys of Trekking
When I head out for a trek, I'm usually buzzing with excitement, backpack strapped snugly and optimism dialed to maximum. I'm already imagining the stunning photos and crisp mountain air that Instagram doesn’t capture fully. But the mountains have a wicked sense of humor, and they’re quick to show me who's boss. Minutes into my climb, enthusiasm gives way to reality: each step feels heavier, as if the mountain has suddenly tilted upward just to mock my earlier confidence. My lungs protest louder than a toddler denied candy, and my heart …
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The People Left. I Stayed.
And that’s when I understood what most of us are really running from. The trek ended like all treks do—dusty boots, shared trail snacks, and a group chat that no one will use. A few people were already calling cabs. One woman with her teenage son had her flight booked for the next morning. Two others were trying to catch the last ride out that same day. When I asked if they were staying for the weekend, they laughed nervously and said, "What will I do here alone? I'll get bored. I'll go mad." That conversation stuck. Not because it …