This day, last year

The story of how I landed up in the mountains

I live in a small village near Bir, Himachal. My house is simple, with a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom. The window of my bedroom faces east towards a mountain, which means the morning sunrays are the first to illuminate my home once they rise over the mountain between us. As the sun travels throughout the day, the window in the passage between the kitchen and the bathroom, as well as the bathroom itself, get illuminated by the evening's golden light, creating a beautiful palette of warm colors.

My house is cute, simple, and the perfect place for one person. The view from the kitchen opens up to the valley ahead, and I can clearly see many other peaks in front of me. There are farms belonging to the villagers that grow wheat, corn, and many other seasonal local crops.

I am truly living the life I had envisioned, and I am immensely grateful for it.

Having said that, my move to the mountains wasn’t a planned romantic endeavor, but a literal escape, running away from the conditions I was in. Last year, on this day, October 5th, I reached Bir for the very first time, and it changed my entire life.

I have been wanting to write about my move to the mountains for a very long time, and today, being one year since I came to Bir, I realized it would be best to do it today.

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I grew up in Noida, and my parents, being fairly fond of travelling, took me on various trips throughout my childhood. I had been to Shimla, Manali, Nainital, Vaishno Devi, and other places in the plains. So when I decided to visit a few villages near Manali during my college days with a friend, I assumed it wouldn’t be anything new to me.

However, the first sight of the mountains from my Volvo bus in 2015 nearly had me gasping for air. I was spellbound by the scale and expanse of the mountains.

The waterfalls in the far end of the valley, the tiny streams that came out of nowhere, and the remote river that followed my bus from afar made me fall in love with water.

The thousands of trees along the road and the never-ending greenery made me fall in love with trees.

The traffic jams of sheep, goats, and mules made me fall in love with animals, and the simplicity, smiles, and beauty of the mountain people made me fall in love with people.

The mountains had cast their spell on me. They continued to do so with even more intensity and love in the following years. I visited Kashmir with my family around the same time and came back almost feeling numb from the scenes I had witnessed. I couldn’t believe that such beauty existed.

I ambitiously planned a solo trip to Spiti in 2017 after my graduation and spent three weeks traveling solo across Spiti Valley, only to come back living in constant nostalgia of what I had seen and experienced.

When I quit my job in 2022, the only place I wanted to run to was Spiti. So I spent three months traveling solo on my motorbike across Spiti, Zanskar, and Ladakh. The trip changed my life and brought me closer to my authentic self. I regained my courage, confidence, and spirit through the journey across the mountain roads.

Even though I had always been in love with the mountains, the idea of moving there never crossed my mind, although the deep intention to live in nature was always present.

Imagining a life in the mountains was tough because I had no idea what I would do there. I wondered if I would make friends, and I was scared of moving to a place so remote that I would have to stare loneliness in the face every single day.

Moving out also never crossed my mind because I lived in Mumbai until June 2022. Life was good in Mumbai. I loved the city. Thanks to my father’s job in a government company, we lived in really nice staff quarters, and all my friends were in Mumbai.

Things changed for me when I quit my job, and at the same time, we got transferred to Jaipur. I didn’t like Jaipur from the very start. I could feel that there was some repulsion between the city and me. I had nobody to call my own, and without a job, there were very few opportunities to make friends.

Even then, moving out didn’t strike me because I didn’t have the financial means to move. I spent a year and a half in Jaipur, from June 2022 to September 2023. I traveled for the first half of it and spent the other half working on my startup, which failed around the same time.

When going through adverse conditions, my mind tends to take the "suffer through it" route, fearing that if I take the exit, it would mean escaping the situation—a classic case of spiritual bypassing! I was so conditioned by this thought that it took me 15 months and a month-long depressive episode to realize there was no other option but to move out!

I discussed this with my family, and they were quite supportive. The place in my mind was Delhi since it was close to Jaipur, I had many friends there, and rent was more affordable compared to Mumbai. There was just one problem: money.

So I decided to take up a job. I spent the next few days, still unable to leave my bed but active enough to search for jobs and houses to rent. I was speaking to brokers, friends who lived on rent, and HR professionals. While I wasn’t happy about moving to Delhi, I was looking forward to starting afresh—a new life in Delhi with a new home, a new job, and the first-time experience of living alone.

Amidst all this, an opportunity arrived to be in Delhi for three days for an intimate community gathering. I was looking forward to the gathering and also decided to search for houses in Delhi. Since I was going to Delhi, an impromptu plan to visit a friend's new hostel in Shoja, Himachal also came through just before the event in Delhi.

I thought it would be nice to take a small break before the gathering to reinvent and rejuvenate myself. Little did I know that the small detour would carve out my life ahead.

During the four days I spent in the mountains at my friend's hostel, I was mostly alone as the hostel had little to no occupancy due to the off-season, and my friend was caught up in building the cafe above the hostel. I spent the four days in solitude, devouring books, spending time just staring at the forest, and talking to the river.

Without any effort or trying hard, I felt healed by the mountains. There was something special there. I genuinely began to wonder what it was about the mountains that had always made me feel the same way over so many years.

After spending a healing and nourishing time in the mountains, I came back to Delhi for the event. Delhi disappointed me even further, and the stark difference between the mountains and the capital city left me with a deep sense of regret and shame for wanting to move to Delhi. Regret, because I was already so deep in the process of looking for a house, and shame, because I felt I couldn’t decide anything for myself and didn’t have the guts to go back to Jaipur without any plan or anything to look forward to.

The gathering was beautiful and healing in ways I didn’t imagine, and yet once it was done, I was left with a deep despair and hollow feeling of not knowing what to do next or where to go. Jaipur was the last place I wanted to return to.

I remember sitting at a friend's home late in the afternoon on 4th October 2023, asking them for help. That’s when my friend Aarti jumped in and said that perhaps Deer Park in Bir was the place for me.

“Deer Park? What would I do in a zoo?” I thought to myself.

Aarti, Deepanshu, and Matin took turns telling me what Deer Park was all about, and it didn’t take me long to be convinced of the idea—not that I had any other options. There was just one problem: my parents were expecting me to come back home and had no idea I was cooking up plans to travel again.

At 4:30 p.m., I booked the bus to Bir and caught the 8 p.m. bus. It was at the bus stop that I finally gathered the courage to call my father. I was hoping he would understand.

Speaking to my parents left me emotionally paralyzed. They were quite shocked that I planned to go to a place whose name they had never heard, and they were visibly worried. I didn’t know what to say to make them feel comfortable; I just didn’t have it in me. I wanted to cut the call, sit on the bus, and not speak to anyone for the next couple of days that I would be in Bir.

On the bus, I saw a few monks, couples, and groups of friends traveling to Bir. No one seemed as sad as I was, but I couldn’t care less. Everything looked grey to me, even their happy faces. I put on some music and continued to stare out the window.

I woke up in the morning to the sound of the bus driver asking me where I wanted to get off. I said Bir with an obvious expression. When I noticed the bus was empty except for me, I realized his question was valid. I frantically got up and realized the bus was in the town next to Bir, Joginder Nagar.

They left me at the Joginder Nagar bus stop, from where I made my way back to Bir by taking a bus and then a taxi directly to Deer Park. I was already so mentally and emotionally exhausted, and this episode left me further drained.

At Deer Park, I met Praveen Ji, who was in charge of the management. He greeted me with a warm smile and asked about my whereabouts. When he asked what I did, I instantly replied, "I’m here to finish writing my book; I’m a writer."

While some part of that was true—I did need to eventually finish my book—I wasn’t really a writer, nor had I come to Bir with the intention to write. But perhaps saying so allowed me to stay at Deer Park, a space not open to general tourists.

I was shown the male dorm, which had only one other person besides me. There were seven beds, and I chose the corner-most bed to retreat into solitude.

The only rule for staying in the dorm was that you had to live there for five days. It cost only ₹250 per day per person, so without thinking much, I agreed. I hadn’t planned to stay at Deer Park or Bir for five days—in fact, I had no plan at all. I hadn’t booked my return tickets, and I thought maybe after 3-4 days I could go to Dharamshala and spend some time there. But this five-day rule ended up keeping me at Deer Park.

On the second day of my stay, I saw the events calendar and came across a writing workshop happening the following week. "What a coincidence," I thought to myself.

The name “Writing Life: An Immersive Writing Workshop” sounded incredibly relevant and interesting. However, it was supposed to start a week later and last for five days, which meant my three-day stay, already extended to five, would now stretch to almost 20 days! I thought about it for a while and decided to speak to Praveen Ji to register. He told me that the workshop had been booked months in advance, but since I was already on campus and had introduced myself as a writer, he’d try his best to accommodate me. This is where calling myself a writer helped.

Praveen Ji got back to me the next day with good news: I could stay at Deer Park and attend the workshop! I felt genuinely happy—something I hadn’t felt in weeks. Finally, I had something to look forward to. I wasn’t talking to my parents as much and was now a bit nervous about how to break this new development to them.

By the time the workshop started, I had resumed writing the second half of my book and had become hooked on the process. Immersing myself in writing allowed me to step away from the chaos in my mind. I felt calm and relaxed while writing, even though it was mentally challenging work.

I was eagerly looking forward to attending the writing workshop, but I had no idea that the day before it started, a huge surprise awaited me. I vividly remember having dinner alone at Deer Park when I suddenly noticed someone walking by—a person who had been my greatest inspiration for the past decade. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I admired her work, values, and her entire being, and seeing her in front of me felt like an impossible dream. I thought I was hallucinating.

I called out to her, and to my amazement, it wasn’t a dream—she was really there at Deer Park! As we spoke, I learned that she, too, was attending the workshop as a participant. I was in disbelief. My biggest inspiration, and now we’d be in the same intimate workshop together?

The workshop itself was a truly beautiful and transformative experience. It reignited my creative energy and inspired me to write with full intent again. The feedback I received from my peers on my writing was heartwarming, and it felt incredible to share that space with such talented people, including my writing mentor and, of course, the person I admired most.

Throughout the workshop, I continued to write daily. By the end of it, I had materialized the intention to finish the first draft of my book. I also made wonderful friends during those days, and together we explored Bir. By the last few days of October, I completed the first draft of my book and had spent an entire month at Deer Park.

Somewhere in the middle of that month, I mentally decided to move to Bir. It felt right. Bir had good connectivity to Delhi, a community of people from all over the country who had made this place their home, and a learning center as enriching and grounded as Deer Park. I was confident I wouldn’t feel like a stranger here.

Exactly a year ago today, I arrived in Bir with a long face, teary eyes, and zero enthusiasm. Now, I sit in my studio, my beautiful home in a village above Bir, reflecting on how grateful I am for that decision to take the bus to a place I knew nothing about. I owe so much to my friends who recommended it and to everyone who supported me along the way.

I could go on about why Bir is such a special place for me, but I’ll save that for another time. I just wanted to share this journey and how I came to move to the mountains. Many people are curious and romanticize the fact that I live here now, but they don’t realize it was a culmination of years of trial and error, failures, and, most importantly, the dire search for a place I could call home. I’m still on that path, and while it’s a long journey, I’m glad Bir became such an important pit stop along the way.

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Last week, I wrote about my experience of attending the workshop - Conscious Communication by Roy Jacob. It’s taking place in Bangalore this time. Here is the link if you’re interested to attend it. After the workshop, Shivangi and I travelled to Nainital to spend sometime at our friend’s house. Nainital surprised me with it’s beauty, culture and the warmness of people. I felt deeply loved at Vanshu’s house. Spent hours talking to her parents who are the most interesting people I met this year! Her house is like an art gallery beautifully curated by her mother. Here are few photographs from Nainital. Also, they run Nainital’s most popular cafe. If you’re ever in Nainital, do not miss this cafe.

After spending a beautiful weekend at Nainital and being fed the most amazing food, we travelled to Slowness Himalayas. I wrote about my experience of visiting Slowness here. Here are few photos of the heaven it is.

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I invite you to reflect and write on the following prompt:

In case you wish to write about something different, please go ahead.
The invitation is to write and enjoy the process.

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As a feature of all my newsletters, I share one song, one book, one plant-based meal, one film/video that inspired me, and some photographic updates from my life.

• Song: Deathcab somehow always makes me teary eyed. I have been listening to it again this week. What a song!

• Book/Newsletter: I am reading “Daily Rituals”. A collection of daily routines of writers, philosophers and artists. Quite an interesting read.

  

• Meal: The meals at Slowness were a classic farm to table experience. Extremely nourishing, tasty and oh, entirely plant based!

  

• Film/Video: I watched Wisdom of Trauma this week. I recommended it last week without watching it myself but knowing that it’s a good one. I recommend it again! Another video that I wish to share is my own. I won’t say much about it. Watch it and tell me what do you think? :)

• Photograph: Went on several photo walks this week, excited to share a few photos.

  

  

  

Hope you have a brilliant day and week ahead. Thank you for reading.