Stories from Lachung!!
Oh, what a moment!
The instant the breeze brushed past us, it felt like the whole world froze in a sigh.
The scene outside was straight out of a painting — misty, breathtaking, wrapped in silence — yet all my heart wanted was to burrow under a fat, cozy blanket and drift into sweet sleep.
But could I?
Not with this little whirlwind around!
Our boy, who seemed completely immune to the cold, kept darting in and out, dancing in every little corner — one moment toppling a kettle filled with water, the next tossing the neatly spread clothes into a messy celebration!
Sometimes biting, sometimes dashing away with a giggle, scattering mischief in every step.
And then — it began to rain.
Oh, the magic of it!
The gentle patter, the soft moaning of the breeze, the world glistening in silvery quiet — it was pure enchantment.
All I wanted was to sit by the window forever, breathing it all in, letting it carry me far, far away...
Dinner was called at 7:30.
We made our way to the dining hall, not expecting anything grand.
A tiny village tucked away, no towns nearby, no restaurants around — we had prepared ourselves to simply surrender that night’s dinner to fate.
But when we arrived — oh, what a surprise awaited us!
A feast fit for kings: steaming hot matar paneer, comforting aloo gobi, fluffy rice, fragrant dal, creamy kheer, and soft rotis hot off the tawa...
And the kitchen — sparkling clean, alive with care and kindness.
Every plate, every spoonful, felt like a warm hug.
By 9 p.m., we snuggled into our cozy little nest — though, of course, the night was still sprinkled with our boy’s endless chirpiri chirpiri, like a song keeping the magic alive.
The instant the breeze brushed past us, it felt like the whole world froze in a sigh.
The scene outside was straight out of a painting — misty, breathtaking, wrapped in silence — yet all my heart wanted was to burrow under a fat, cozy blanket and drift into sweet sleep.
But could I?
Not with this little whirlwind around!
Our boy, who seemed completely immune to the cold, kept darting in and out, dancing in every little corner — one moment toppling a kettle filled with water, the next tossing the neatly spread clothes into a messy celebration!
Sometimes biting, sometimes dashing away with a giggle, scattering mischief in every step.
And then — it began to rain.
Oh, the magic of it!
The gentle patter, the soft moaning of the breeze, the world glistening in silvery quiet — it was pure enchantment.
All I wanted was to sit by the window forever, breathing it all in, letting it carry me far, far away...
Dinner was called at 7:30.
We made our way to the dining hall, not expecting anything grand.
A tiny village tucked away, no towns nearby, no restaurants around — we had prepared ourselves to simply surrender that night’s dinner to fate.
But when we arrived — oh, what a surprise awaited us!
A feast fit for kings: steaming hot matar paneer, comforting aloo gobi, fluffy rice, fragrant dal, creamy kheer, and soft rotis hot off the tawa...
And the kitchen — sparkling clean, alive with care and kindness.
Every plate, every spoonful, felt like a warm hug.
By 9 p.m., we snuggled into our cozy little nest — though, of course, the night was still sprinkled with our boy’s endless chirpiri chirpiri, like a song keeping the magic alive.
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