The first trip I wanted to take after COVID-19 had to be extraordinary. Narrowing down the destination was surprisingly easy. Since the beginning of time, there has been a mental picture of the Key Monastery in the valley of the Spiti River, with snow-clad mountains and lush greenery. I aspired to stand there, to behold its splendor, and to capture its beauty in a photograph.

So there I was moments before quitting a job, around the same time as my birthday, on the first flight to Delhi, the first milestone to Spiti. In years to come, I would realize that Spiti had changed something in me for a lifetime.

Bongs, Dharma, and the letters that never arrived are a recollection of some of the great moments from the trip. These moments have led to friendships, learnings, and reflections of a lifetime. I hope these moments and experiences add something to your life.

Reckong Peo – Midway to Spiti

What makes Spiti daunting isn’t its height or beauty; but the travel. The journey to Spiti is nightmarishly beautiful, something I would gladly give everything I possess to experience again.

From Delhi, it was a bus journey from Chandigarh to Shimla and then to Reckong Peo, and I slept through most of it. When I woke up, though, the faint light of the morning sky gave me a view of the river and valleys. A view that was breathtaking enough to inspire me to start taking pictures and videos with my phone. Every view outside of the window felt worth capturing. I reached Reckong Peo early in the morning. 

I arranged a homestay in Reckong Peo. Upon arrival, I promptly checked in, refreshed myself, and decided to explore the city. Situated in a valley, Reckong Peo required navigating through a network of stairs to move around. Eager to immerse myself in the surroundings, I embarked on a brief walk to the village of Kalpa. At the walk’s end, I discovered a serene temple overlooking the majestic mountains and the bustling city below. Following the trek, I descended to the market, craving a comforting bowl of Thukpa to replenish my energy. Satisfied after finding a cozy Tibetan shop, I indulged in a hearty serving. I opted to spend the remainder of the day in Reckong Peo taking a rest, preparing to catch the first bus to Kaza at 5:00 AM.

Spiti Valley consists of a few places with Kaza as its major city. Some of the other prominent places in Spiti include Taba, Nako, and Pin Valley, among other places. I was excited for what was to come

Acquaintance with the Bongs

The March of 2022 was a pretty low time for me, I was going through some anxieties. In between of a major career shift, I was also dealing with some complex relationships at home. Honestly, this trip was running away from the problems of the world, but honestly, I was ok with it. 

By the time I had reached Reckong Peo, I was excited but also somehow low. It was a post-COVID world, where I had forgotten to travel solo. I wanted desperately to prove I was a solo traveler and I could do this, but for the first time in many years, I felt lonely like never before. I had been struggling. THis was a new feeling, in all my trips before I had never felt something like this. 

On the way to Kaza, I boarded the bus, quite bummed about the fact that the only seat left was a middle seat while two uncles had taken both the aisle and window seat of the bus. The issue in all of this was socializing which I wasn’t ready for then. I somehow did end up socializing with them unaware of the fact that there was a surprise for me!

It’s honestly not uncommon to find a bong while traveling. Bongs are frivolous travelers, guess that’s what is in me. But even being a bong myself I had been skeptical of Bengalis from West Bengal—a stupid stereotypical lesson stamped on my brain. The two uncles were bongs, and the two were from West Bengali. (Yes some bongs don’t have a lot of connections in West Bengal like me, surprise surprise!)

However, this was just the tip of the iceberg. As we started talking more and more about their crazy adventures, their travel group, and the places they had been to, I felt more and more connected to them. The sense of loneliness was given away to give the uncles a chance. What came up was that the two bong uncles weren’t just bongs but one of them shared my surname, an extremely uncommon thing to have. (My surname is Shome! Google if you do believe) In those extreme moments of diaspora of proving myself and feeling lonely, those uncles were home. Home to a strange feeling of comfort, home to how this breed of travelers are like – comforting to other people and fun. The two uncles got down at Nako, one of the villages in the Spiti Valley, they asked me to join them but I wanted to reach Kaza as soon as i could, so we bid our goodbyes.

From Nako to Tabo and then to Kaza, it was a magical and terrifying ride. The magic was that it was breathtaking well everything but terrifying HRTC, the buses of Himachal. Our bus was driving on a road that was designed just for this bus, so it was the width of tire to tire to a bus one slip-up and we would have been downhill, but we weren’t and we were at min 80kmph. When finally I reached Kaza, I sighed with a deep breath that I made it. After looking around I was also relieved by the fact that it was just the way I had imagined it to be, Kaza was this small beautiful city on the side of the Spiti River.

In the first two days in Kaza, I had seen everything, from the magnificent Key Monastery to the highest post office where I posted letters to different places across India. After being done through the touristy things, I took my refute in bowls of Thukpa across the town. I even had an interesting visit to the Leh Monastery, where for a brief time I was alone with Buddha inside the temple.

Everything was magical and yet something wasn’t hitting off. From the monasteries to the snowy mountains, something was killing me. I had come to Spiti to feel something deeply, either the reassurance that I was doing well as a solo traveler or a touch of Buddha himself that everything was alright. I was anxious and restless to feel something for which I had traveled to a different part of the country.

Day 2 and I felt I was probably done with this place, I wanted to leave. I came back from my evening walks to take a bus in the morning. But things were about to change:

That evening, as I came back to Homestay, I found a new person there. To this someone, I introduced myself, and later at night, we talked. This someone turned out to be the third bong person on my trip. We talked for a while, I told her about the places I went around, she had already seen all of those, and it was her second time in Spiti. I dont know why but while parting ways to our rooms she casually mentioned, if you can stay another day, we can explore around. I think to the lonely traveler in me I was already convinced. I needed a friend.

The next two days in Kaza felt different. We didn’t do anything touristy, we walked around the city, explored the Spiti River took a dip in the icy cold waters, and introduced her to Thukpa. We talked about philosophy, her breakups which had led her here, and about how lives were different in Mumbai and Delhi. 

There is no magic like a conversation with a friend. 

Interactions with Dharma

On the fourth day in Spiti, I woke up happier than ever. Me and my new friend had made a plan for this day, we were to cross the Spiti River and explore a monastery on the other side of us. I had eyes on this monastery since the day I arrived. There was no activity there and upon my questions, the locals had shared how it is usually abandoned in the winter and the monks would only return later in the year. I was not sure how I felt about this information.

Somewhere down I felt this monastery was where I would feel my trip complete. The touch of reassurance I had been looking for, a sign that if there was a god, I wanted his presence known just to be ok down here. I know it might sound stupid, but it was what it was. And in the absence of a monk, I was wondering who that presence could be, who do I talk to about it. Having read a bit of Buddhism, I knew how the reassuring figure, god exists everywhere, in all forms, but it took me some time to really understand it.

That morning I woke up but my new friend hadn’t woken up, nor there was a signal in Spiti to call her out of her room, so I waited. I went outside my homestay to take a look at the monastery, the distance needed to cover on foot. I walked back and forth constantly and then decided I was going alone.

Skeptical to do this alone, not because I hadn’t done a small trek like this, but because this time of the year, Kaza was deserted. I didn’t want to be in trouble after already being so low during the whole trip. The monastery however loomed large on the other side of the river as if calling me.

I took the down route through the outskirts of Kaza, passed a huge ground, and finally made my way to as near as I could go to the river bank. Spiti River had a strong flow, however, the volume this time of year wasn’t that much. The bank however was extremely wide, a good 1.5 km from one end to the other. 

The land was however a bit high from the bank. I was searching for a way down which looked safe but was ending up in dead ends. Until I found one that had slippery pebbles all along the way. I took that route, got into trouble, and constantly in the back of my head there was a thought how will I get back up through this slope? My shoes were normal ones they did slip through extremely slippery pebbles. 

Not much to my surprise I reached a dead end but at the end of the dead end I noticed a dog staring at me. I was startled but was not alarmed by his sight. He also looked like he was struggling on the way, but he found a route and went down. I followed the dog. 

In the next hour, I wasn’t sure who was following whom. The sun was out and was shining at its highest while the two travelers – me and a furry companion, were finding the path across the Spiti River. From above the city, the Spiti River looked crossable, its small wooden bridge was also spottable from the distance, but when we were level-headed with the river, the bridge was far to spot. However my furry companion didn’t seem to be in a similar confusion, he was determined and was not stopping. I moved along with him. He showed me the route across the riverbed and helped me find the bridge. He although didn’t use the bridge, he went down the river, took a beautiful dip in the river cleaned himself, and joined me. He motivated me across a rough stony sunny patch of the river bed, not stopping, giving a few hugs in between when I got tired. 

We crossed and the other side was a mountain climb as well. We started the climb, which was much more difficult than I thought to be. The terrain looked easy from across but trust me it was not. With some broken stairs, a few difficult rocks, and crossing a road, it felt feeling I was closer to the monastery.

To note, I was on my Google Maps all along. But I wasn’t sure who was leading the whole route. We came across this narrow opening in between the rocks and a boundary of another building and we followed through. I heard a dog bark and I stood still. This was remote, I repeat a very remote place. My companion didn’t stop, he went on barking at the dog which turned out to be a group of six dogs coming at me. I was scared but Dharma wasn’t. He made my way through and stopped back to keep barking at them so that they dont bark at me. 

He then went ahead of me and looked at me when I couldn’t find a way inside the monastery because the gate was closed. He showed me a patch in the boundary, jumped first, and waited for me. He walked along then, through the gate to the monastery. 

I was tired, I just wanted to take a break now. My furry companion wasn’t, he went on waggling his tail all across the monastery. It looked like he was confused as well why was I in this deserted place? I was also disappointed because as expected the monastery was closed. On my trip, this was supposed to be the last monastery, and the hope of finding something divine ended here. I looked around for a window and took the stairs in the front of the monastery leading to the front door of the first floor. I sat down at the stairs, dejected, closing my eyes desperately trying to find sense in all of it.

I opened my eyes, and I was sitting right in front of the front door of the monastery. But in front of the door was my furry companion looking right back at me. He was on the higher stair, looking majestically at me, and I shuddered a tear. I cried in confusion and happiness.

For what I was looking for was right in front of me. 

At the end of Mahabharata, when the Pandavas make their way to heaven there is a black coloured dog which follows Yudishthir till heaven. It is only later that he reveals himself to be the Dharmaraj, taking a test of him.

I dont believe my companion was Dharma, I dont think I was that important. But if that dog wasn’t God himself, I dunno what he was. He was to me and who is to say that God isn’t in everyone, but within that moment of realization was that why else was he there if not to just reassure me I had his presence with me? That I was ok and he was there always to make me feel ok. 

Dharma accompanied me back to the city but not fully though. The moment I traveled back, I couldn’t find him. 

Dharma was here to teach me a lesson. 

The letters that never arrived 

What followed was never a dull moment in Spiti. I came back and my friend was awake by then. We went to take a dip in the Spiti River again, this time a more adventurous dip. We came back went around the town and decided it was time to bid adieu to Kaza. 

The morning we started back to Shimla, half asleep and half shaken by the tumultuous bus ride. We woke up to find quite a full bus with people chattering across. At a later stop, we started interacting and found a few solo travelers on the bus whom we gelled with. A lot of things happened later, we started vibing to the same songs, gathered around again at dinner, and finally decided to dance on the top of the bus to the same songs. On the bus to Shimla, there were six people dancing to Chaiya Chaiya in their full zest. People who were worn out of the cold of Spiti, tired of traveling, hadn’t had a shower in a while and yet everything at the top of the bus was perfect.

A few days earlier when I was traveling solo around Kaza, I came across the town of Hikkim, India’s highest post office. It was a nature’s marvel. It was a town built on a beautiful valley. Each hut in the town was an architecture to look at. While sliding down the muddy slope inside the village you have to make your way to the post office, the highest one. From a tiny window, I brought a few postcards, wrote long messages to at least three destinations, and sent them.

One of the postcards was addressed to my friends in Mumbai, but that never reached, It spoke about how I might not be around when this letter reaches them because I was moving out of the shared space. There were letters addressed to my peeps at home, speaking I did it, I did Spiti Valley, and even in a place where you did not want me to go, I remembered you guys first. And third, was a letter to myself, speaking about how I might have changed now and I might not be the same person I was a few years ago. How this trip might not have been the best thing to happen.

I am glad those letters never reached me. Sometimes you are so stuck on the kind of experiences you want to have in life that you stop experiencing what is happening right in front of you. For me, solo traveling might have been a very different kind of experience then, but what I did during Spiti was the peak of how you solo travel. You make friends, you enjoy life as it is, you go through a bad phase and a happy phase, and you survive, You take back memories for your next trip. You are not afraid of anything, not even a bad phase during a trip. I was that, I was Rahagir at Spiti, the same one but now a more experienced one. I had nothing to be afraid of, especially when he was there protecting me every step of my life. 

I also realized I did not need those letters to remind me of my learnings at Spiti Valley because those learnings were a part of me now.

Somehow I ended up having all the experiences that I wanted – Not being lonely, having a divine presence, and having learnings for life.

And, in the end, amidst the conversations with the Bongs, the companionship of Dharma, and the unspoken tales of the letters that never arrived, Spiti bestowed upon me not just memories, but a profound transformation of the soul.