It’s 2 AM. Sleep escapes me.

In just two days, I’ll be walking a trail that leads to the world’s highest Shiva temple.

Me—Suvi—almost 52 years old, restless, wondering what possessed me to sign up for this. A last-minute addition to a gang of doctors. Now that the thrill of “my first trek” has worn off, the jitters have started to settle in.

Yes, I’m a Kumaoni by birth—with childhood summers spent darting between Naani Maa’s and Daadi Maa’s homes, across pine-scented trails. But life has a way of pulling you away from your roots. One day, you wake up wondering if that mountain girl still lives in you.

We packed too much,especially Me and Dr Shalini ..We stood out right from the start, like overpacked tourists who missed the memo on minimalism. But hey, we were ready..Or so I thought.

The drive to our cozy mountain stay was long, winding, and beautiful. We were all sleep-deprived and slightly overwhelmed, but something inside each of us had quietly woken up.

With the first toll of the temple bell echoing across the hills, we began the trek to …Tungnath….

Just 500 meters in, I was wheezing and questioning all my life choices. Had I ever exercised? It seemed doubtful at that moment.

And yet, even in the struggle, something shifted. The body ached, but the soul stirred. I remembered my father climbing the Great Wall of China at my age—fit, fearless, unstoppable. Could I tap into that same spirit?

I think each one of us was silently huffing, puffing, pretending to be okay. And then someone let out a loud, dramatic “Uff… Baba re!” Was it me ???🤔🤔And that broke the dam—we burst into laughter. Just like that, something shifted. We weren’t just co-trekkers—we were a team.

Our gang of eight:

There was Dr. Seema …our planner, organizer, human Google Maps. Calm, reliable, the kind who books stays with clean bathrooms and good food.

Dr. Shalini…part panther, part pixie. She climbs as if gravity doesn’t apply to her. A few graceful strides ahead, always waiting with a smile as I arrived breathless and dramatic.

Dr. Ruchi…mmm a walking paradox—sweet one moment, then military commander the next. She scolded us into finishing the toughest stretches. She also kept Dr. Atul, her husband, and our resident entertainer, in check. Not easy ☺️☺️☺️

Dr Atul, the funniest of us all, was a livewire. With his Insta360 camera strapped on like a gadget from a sci-fi movie, he was determined to document every moment—from mountain views to ground reporting..☺️☺️…and ..Somewhere along the way, thanks to a dramatic tumble or some mountain magic, the camera mysteriously lost half its field of vision. How Insta360 became Insta180 is another story altogether—one that still gets us giggling over ☺️

Then came Dr. Parul and her daughter, Dr. Rupal …a duo like no other ..They bickered, bantered, and burst into laughter within the same breath. Rupal’s eye-rolls at her mom’s fussing could power a hydroelectric plant. But behind the teasing was the kind of deep, inseparable bond ❤️

And finally, Dr. Praveen …our quiet man with a camera. While we posed and puffed, he stood at a distance capturing the poetry of it all—the sweeping views, the raw fatigue, the silent triumphs. His photos and videos became the heart of our trip, telling the story we didn’t know we were living.

As we huffed our way upward, pink rhododendrons began to bloom along the trail like mountain confetti. Dr. Seema pointed them out with quiet awe. It felt like the hills were rooting for us.

Every now and then, we’d cross seasoned trekkers with sleek backpacks, professional boots, and trekking poles that looked like they’d been blessed by NASA. Some were on clean-up missions for the Himalayas—noble, serene, and looking at us with amused pity. We knew we looked like slightly lost tourists. But we were happy types lost.

We met so many other ppl like us on the way and they became friends for the short journey we were taking together knowing we had the same destination and sharing our experiences knowing very well that by the end of it we might never meet but for now we were together.
Somewhere between the gasps for breath and shared energy bars, we found rhythm. We started breathing with the mountains, walking in step with the earth beneath us. The snow-capped peaks shimmered in golden sunlight. Bees buzzed. Laughter echoed. It was magic.

Reaching “Tungnath”felt like coming home. That stillness. That sanctity. That hush of something bigger than us. It silenced our aches.

And then came “Chandrashila”

I nearly backed out. Clouds had begun to creep in, and someone mentioned steep climbs and sudden weather shifts. We hesitated.

But of course, “Dr Shalini “just started walking—as if she’d heard none of the warnings. She climbed like she was born for it.
And we followed …
When we saw the sign: “Chandrashila 1 km”,we believed it. Like fools. That “1 km” felt like ten. I’m still convinced someone wiped off the zero as a prank.

Halfway up, I was ready to quit. That’s when Dr Ruchi ..threw me that look…the “Don’t you dare!” look—and barked something motivational that I was too breathless to register. But it worked.

We pushed each other. Pulled each other. And step by painful step—we made it.

And that view.

“That view.”

“That feeling “….

We did it…..

We had knees that creaked, backs that complained, hearts that had seen their share of bruises—physical and otherwise. But we climbed that mountain. Together. Not despite our age, but because of it. We brought every scar, every smile line, every lesson—and carried them to the summit.

And the very next day—we set off for Deoriatal.

I thought, “Oh, this will be a cakewalk.”
After all, we’d conquered Chandrashila! We were practically pros now.

I heard the word “Taal”and imagined something like Nainital—a gentle path, maybe a chai shop, perhaps even a bench or two.

Well.

Reality check: this taal was no Nainitaal …☺️☺️☺️even though there were chai shops

The climb was shorter, yes—but unexpectedly steeper. Our lungs were gasping for mercy within minutes. I thought , “Kya yeh taal Himalaya se bhi upar banaa hai kya?” while clinging to a rock like a long-lost lover.

Whatever seasoned trekker confidence we had was instantly humbled.
We were huffing, puffing, laughing, gasping, and occasionally questioning our sanity—again.
Except for our Usain Bolt aka Dr Shalini …☺️

And when we finally reached the top….

There it was:Deoria Taal …Still. Serene. Surreal. A glassy lake cradled under the gaze of the mighty trees and peaks. The Himalayas stood in silent pride behind it, watching us like amused grandparents saying, “Chalo, bachche aa gaye.”☺️

And just when we thought we were having our peaceful, private Himalayan moment—enter: “the drone” …hmmm

A bunch of young trekkers nearby thought they were being subtle. They launched a drone and began snooping…circling it above us, clearly prying.

But we were unfazed.

Instead of getting awkward or annoyed, we broke into grins, struck a few carefree poses, dances and sang and carried on like seasoned stars under surveillance.

After all, let them look.

We’d earned that view, that joy, and that unapologetic glow.

-We had earned this moment. We had climbed, fallen, risen, and arrived together.

We weren’t just trekking.
We were remembering who we used to be.
And celebrating who we’ve become.

Coz ….

This is the only life we’ve got.
Let’s live it—fully, wildly, unapologetically.

…… Suvi’s Scribbles