I return to the mountains, the pines and the entwined rhododendrons, the crisp mountain air and the rain-washed vales, and I breathe. I’ve come home...

The road is a gently winding dirt track. On one side, wild daisies like tiny stars on a never-ending firmament of lush, moist moss. And on the other, sheer drop, dark even at high noon. And rising from those depths, unending Deodars that though plunged in darkness silently kiss the sky and embrace the light. And, somewhere between those chandelier-esque branches with their pendulous cones that shyly peek out from behind the overhanging mist — the higher Himalayas. Snow-capped and glistening. Beckoning. Ah the mountains!