I am sitting in the back of an SUV thundering down the bumpy, curvy road bound to Darjeeling. The cool winds greet my uncovered ears getting colder every minute. I adjust myself to have least hindrance to the view. Oh! The view, I can never forget those moments of bliss, that tumult of emotions, the overflowing twin dams and the inexhaustible gratitude which mighty and beautiful Himalayas inspire in mortals just like themselves.

The coniferous forest is basking in the wintry sunlight. Each and every moment, something sparkles, my pulse races and disappears. Having been taught to hate pink stuff all my life, my stereotypes are about to be challenged now. I look towards the sky and encounter a pink radiance emanating from the yellow ochre sun. It spreads through the cold blue chambers of the...