It was downright painful when we stepped out of our car, with Karma Ji - our ever cheerful Tibetan driver, who knew the roads of Ladakh as well as the lines on his hands. He sighed and it was clear from his eyes that he was mesmerized by what lay before him; mesmerized still, after having driven here numerous times, by the vast expanse of pristine blue which lay tucked in the lap of the land which was undulated and also not; he laughed a little in joy and in relief as he knew that the difficult drive had been worth it after all – that there was nothing, in fact, more beautiful than the lake which stretched out in front, with its water lapping in small waves – that Pangong Tso was indeed the most beautiful thing to exist at 14,270 ft above sea level.

The ride from Leh to Pangong hadn’t been easy, and Karma Ji had given us a fair warning before starting us on. As our car skipped over boulders, rocks, pebbles, rivers, and everything which did not even have the slightest semblance to what can be called a road, we were wearily aware of the pain our muscles were going to be in once we reached a height where oxygen made its presence felt only slightly.


And so we were mightily in pain as we stepped out, and before we could start with our groans, Karma Ji’s mirthful eyes looked at us and then looked away at the direction to which it had been fixed since he had arrived. We couldn’t help but follow his gaze and soon we too were swept away by a riot of blue in the midst of ashened hills.

Stunned as we were, we were late to notice the bright yellow scooter of ‘Three Idiots’ fame playing a cameo against the blue backdrop and other groups of tourists striking poses with it. Well, we did it too. But can we really be blamed? A bright yellow scooter, hills seemingly barren, devoid of life, a sky the brightest shade of blue and a pool of water which reflected truthfully every shade of its friend high above; we thought we were in heaven or in the presence of a greater miracle- a lake, blob of pulsating life in a place averse to survival, turning it into heaven for whoever chose to visit it. As we grappled with the magnanimity of the miracle before us the sun quietly dipped below the horizon, leaving us in darkness - the kind of darkness which city dwellers have hardly known. Therefore, true to nature we did what we do best- sought refuge in our rooms, marveling at the invention that is electricity as we were sure we would have perished in the cold with temperatures dropping below freezing point.

However hardly did we know that we were in for a greater surprise. As we made our weary way to the dining room wrapped up in more layers than we ever wore down in the Gangetic plains, through a path which didn’t protect us with a roof above our heads, we decided to look up for a change and we witnessed the second miracle in the span of six hours.

It was the sky again but this time, instead of lending its beauty to its friend below it had decided to keep all its ornaments to itself. It had dirtied itself with pieces of diamonds scattered hastily all around. The glittering, shining, enthralling pieces of jewels which it showed off so passionately were what we call stars – gaseous bodies burning themselves up for thousands and thousands of years. Never had we seen a sky more willing to rain down on us the pieces which we only wished upon when they broke off from their owner and which we could never call our own. We were struck.

Heaven? This was definitely it.

As we proceeded with our dinner, the quiet of the surroundings was only broken by the excited chatter of a group of Indians and Koreans, all gobsmacked at the miracles that they had witnessed in a single day brought together as they were from different corners of the world by the promise of experiencing heaven on earth.

Eventually, the group broke off, a little sadly and even, a little happily- only to know that perhaps, in a day they had just lived a lifetime.