“From butter tea mornings to Capfus giggles,

a Ladakh tale steeped in love and innocence.”

….In Basgo, mornings begin with butter tea and laughter swirling in the mountain air.

Two Dolmas, a little white Alto, and me—driving through Ladakh’s endless roads, where monastery bells echo, momos steam in the kitchen, and even cappuccino has a new name: Capfus.

Dolma 1 and Dolma 2—my names for them because Ladakhi syllables would’ve tied my tongue in knots. My friend Dolma from earlier trips introduced me to her sister-in-law this time, and so the numbering began—Dolma 1 & Dolma 2, simple and fuss-free, like everything else in Basgo.

Three of us, one Alto, mountain winds for company. The Dolmas chattering in Ladakhi, me slipping into Hindi now and then. Their plan? Monasteries, mountain roads, and endless photos. “Ma’am, road middle mein khade ho jaiye, best photo!” they’d insist. I, the skeptical one, eventually surrendered—Suvi, go with the flow.

Flow it was. Butter tea mornings. Dolma 2 massaging my head when AMS struck. Her husband cooking a delicious lunch, her boys rolling out momos like little chefs. Everyone worked—men, women, kids—quietly, gracefully. No fuss, no drama, just life being lived together.

And at the heart of it all—Amma 1 & Amma 2. Two wiry, sun-browned women in their seventies, heads of the family, smiles wide as the Ladakhi sky. Agile and tireless—tending cows, mending fields, cooking, cleaning, scolding, laughing—all with the kind of energy that makes you question what on earth you’re doing with your own life. Innocent faces, strong hands, eyes that had seen storms yet sparkled with mischief. You couldn’t watch them and not fall in love.

At Hemis monastery, I treated three of us with coffee. The two Dolma’s relished every sip of cappuccino, giggling like schoolgirls, Dolma 1 calling it Capfus with such innocence that the moment wrapped itself around my heart. Same village, same lives, yet barely any time  to stop at the little cafe nearby. That’s life, isn’t it? Too busy surviving to taste every joy at our doorstep.

But that day, we did. Capfus, giggles, mountains, monasteries—and a comfort born of simple kindness. Maybe that’s why Ladakh keeps calling me back. It’s the people. The way they pour love like they pour tea. The way they live fully despite the hardships. The way innocence still survives here, tucked between mountains and monasteries.

And every time I leave, Ladakh takes a little piece of my heart… and leaves behind a lifetime of Capfus-flavored memories.

⸻Suvi’s Scribbles