It was a quiet evening, and I was walking to the kitchen to grab some water when I saw Mom
sitting in the corner of the room, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she
sobbed softly. I froze in my tracks.
"Mom?" I called out, my voice trembling.
She looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen, and for a moment, it felt like the air in the room
got heavier. She didn't answer right away. I walked over to her, kneeling by her side, and asked,
"What's wrong? Please, tell me."
After several moments of silence, she finally spoke, her voice breaking. "Trisha… you need to
go to the doctor. They found something in your heart tests…"
Confused and scared, I sat there as she explained, stumbling over her words. Hypertrophic
cardiomyopathy. A condition where the heart muscle becomes abnormally thick, making it
harder to pump blood. Something I'd never even heard of before, yet it now felt like the world
had tilted under my feet.
Later that evening, I called Adi, my one and only best friend who had always been there for me.
He picked up on the first ring, his voice as cheerful as ever.
"Trisha! What is the matter?"
"Adi…" My voice cracked. "I need to talk to you. is necessary."
Hearing the tremor in my voice, his tone immediately shifted. "What happened? Everything is
fine?"
I poured my heart out, explaining everything through sobs and pauses. The fear of the
unknown, the worry about my future, and the guilt of seeing my mom like that.
There was a brief silence on the other end before Adi spoke, his voice steady and filled with
determination.
"Trisha, listen. Whatever it is, you are not alone. I am always with you. We will face this problem
together, understand? There are doctors, there are solutions. You just have to have courage."
His words felt like a warm hug, wrapping me in comfort.
"But Adi, what if—"
"Shh," he interrupted. "Nothing will happen. You are strong, and if she ever feels, I'm here to
support you."
I didn't know whether to cry more or laugh at his confidence, but in that moment, I realized how
lucky I was to have someone like Adi.
That day, my fear didn't disappear, but with Adi's unwavering support and my mom's love, I felt
just a little braver to face whatever came next.
That night, lying in bed, sleep felt like a distant dream. My mind was racing, and every beat of
my heart seemed louder, heavier, like it was reminding me of the storm brewing within.
I stared at the ceiling, the faint moonlight spilling through the curtains. The word kept echoing in
my head—hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Something I didn't even know existed until today. And
now, it was a part of me.
Why me?
The thought crept in, uninvited. I felt a lump rise in my throat, guilt following closely behind it.
Mom's crying face haunted me. I hated that I was the reason for her tears. I hated that I had no
control over this.
But then I remembered Adi's voice, steady and reassuring. "you are not alone."
I hugged the pillow tighter, feeling a mix of gratitude and fear. Adi had always been my anchor,
but could I really burden him with this? What if things got worse? What if I wasn't strong
enough?
I closed my eyes, trying to push the negative thoughts away, but they kept coming. What about
my dreams? My future? Would this condition define me?
And then, another thought slipped in, quiet but firm: It doesn't have to.
I don't know where it came from, maybe Adi's words or the deep well of love I felt from my mom
earlier. But it was there, a tiny flame of resolve. I couldn't let fear consume me, not when I had
so much to fight for.
That night, I promised myself something: I'd face this head-on, one step at a time. I'd educate
myself, lean on the people who cared for me, and find strength in their support.
Sleep eventually came, not peaceful but filled with a strange determination. Because even
though my heart felt heavy, it also felt alive—beating, fighting, surviving. And so would I.
The next morning, the sunlight streaming through the window felt warmer than usual, almost
comforting. It was Sunday, and for the first time in a while, I woke up with a strange mix of
emotions—hope and nervous energy.
I sat on my bed for a while, staring out at the clear blue sky, thinking about everything that had
happened yesterday. The heaviness was still there, but something had shifted. A part of me
wanted to escape, to breathe freely for just a little while.
That's when the idea hit me. A trip. Just me and Adi.
Nainital. The thought made me smile. The cool breeze, the peaceful lake, the serene
hills—exactly the kind of place I needed to clear my head.
I picked up my phone and called Adi. As expected, he answered almost immediately.
"Trisha! Kya baat hai? Subah-subah?" he joked, his voice cheerful.
"Adi," I said, a hint of excitement creeping into my voice, "Let's go to Nainital. Today."
There was a pause on the other end, and then he burst out laughing. "Yaar, tu serious hai? Abhi
kal hi itna kuch hua aur tu trip ki baat kar rahi hai?"
"I'm serious, Adi," I said, my tone firmer now. "I need this. We need this. Let's just… get away for
a bit. No stress, no heavy conversations. Just us, the hills, and some peace."
He went quiet for a moment, and I knew he was thinking. Then, in true Adi style, he said, "Okay,
Trisha. It's your plan, so let's do it. But a condition."
"What?"
"You will let me know if you get tired or feel uncomfortable. Deal?"
"Deal," I replied, smiling.
By mid-morning, we were on our way to Nainital, the wind rushing past us as we drove, our
favorite songs playing in the background. For the first time in days, I felt lighter, like the weight of
yesterday wasn't crushing me anymore.
As the car climbed higher into the hills, I looked over at Adi, his hands on the wheel, and
thought to myself, Maybe I'm scared, but I'm not alone. And that makes all the difference.
This trip wasn't just a getaway—it was the start of me taking control of my story, one beautiful
moment at a time.
As we made our way to Nainital, the winding roads seemed to echo the twists and turns in my
own life. The car climbed higher into the hills, and with every mile, I felt a little closer to clarity.
The scenery was breathtaking—dense forests stretching endlessly, sunlight streaming through
the leaves, and the cool breeze brushing against my face as we rolled the windows down. For a
while, I just let myself get lost in it all, the simplicity of nature reminding me that sometimes, the
best way to find peace is to pause and take in the world around you.
Adi kept cracking jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and I couldn't help but smile at his efforts. He
was driving, but every now and then, he'd glance at me, as if silently checking to make sure I
was okay. It was so… Adi. Always looking out for me without making it obvious.
I leaned my head against the window, watching the world go by, and my thoughts began to
wander. Life felt so fragile all of a sudden, like a glass figurine you're terrified to drop. But at the
same time, there was something grounding about being here, on this journey, with someone
who truly cared.
I thought about how much had changed in just a day. How yesterday I was drowning in fear, and
today, I was on a road to the mountains, daring to hope again.
"Adi," I said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Haan?" He glanced at me, his eyebrows raised.
"Thanks. For coming with me, for being you… bas, thanks."
He grinned. "Oye, don't be centi. I am your best friend. Anything for you."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. Only Adi could make something so emotional feel so
effortless.
As the car climbed higher, the air got cooler, and I could see the first glimpses of the lake in the
distance. It felt like a metaphor for my life—challenging roads, but something beautiful waiting at
the end if I kept going.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that things might just turn
out okay.
As we reached Nainital, the cool, crisp air welcomed us like an old friend. The view of the
serene Naini Lake surrounded by lush green hills instantly made me feel lighter, as if the weight
I'd been carrying had loosened its grip just a little.
Adi parked the car near Mall Road, and we both stepped out, stretching after the long drive.
"Toh, madam," Adi said, clapping his hands together, "where to go first?"
I took a deep breath, looking around at the colorful shops and the calm lake. "Lake boating," I
said, grinning. "I want to feel the water, the breeze, everything."
Adi raised an eyebrow. "Boating? And you will row the boat or I will do all the work?"
"Of course, you'll do the work," I teased, laughing. "I will just enjoy."
We rented a small boat and drifted into the middle of the lake. The water sparkled under the late
morning sun, and the gentle ripples seemed to echo the calm I was starting to feel. Adi paddled
lazily, his usual chatter filling the silence.
"Trisha, think, what if we both open a shop here for a day? I will sell tea and you will sell
pakodas," he joked, his eyes twinkling.
I laughed, the sound blending with the soft lapping of the water. "And our name will be: Adi and
Trisha's Dhaba Wali Nauk!"
We both burst out laughing, the kind of carefree laughter I hadn't felt in days.
As we floated in the middle of the lake, I closed my eyes and let the moment sink in. The cool
breeze, the soft sound of the oars in the water, Adi's voice—everything felt so peaceful, so
distant from the chaos in my mind.
After the boat ride, we decided to grab some hot momos and steaming cups of chai from a small
stall near the lake. Sitting on a bench, overlooking the water, I looked at Adi and said, "This was
a good idea. Thank you for coming with me."
He smirked, popping a momo into his mouth. "Trisha, just remember one thing – whatever
problem you bring in life, I am always there with the solution."
I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I knew he was right. With Adi by my side, even the toughest
days felt a little easier to bear.
"What next?" he asked, wiping his hands.
I thought for a moment, then smiled. "Let's explore the ropeway. I want to see the view from the
top."
And just like that, our day of healing and laughter continued, one moment at a time.
After finishing our momos and chai, we decided to head to the Nainital Ropeway. The thought of
seeing the entire valley from above excited me—it felt symbolic, like stepping back and viewing
life from a broader perspective.
As we walked toward the cable car station, Adi couldn't help but make jokes. "Think, Trisha,
what if the cable car stops? I just don't want to hang in the air," he said dramatically.
"shut up, Adi !" I laughed, nudging him. "Are you scared??"
"No, I am more afraid of hearing your screams than you," he quipped.
We got into the cable car, and as it began its slow ascent, the world below us started shrinking.
The lake looked even more magical from above, its emerald surface glimmering in the sunlight.
The rolling hills, dotted with colorful houses, stretched out in every direction.
I couldn't stop staring out of the window. "It's so beautiful," I murmured.
Adi nodded, unusually quiet for a change. "Yes. Sometimes life should be viewed from here –
from above. everything seems small."
His words struck a chord with me. For a moment, I thought about my diagnosis. It still scared
me, but looking at this vast, beautiful world, my problems felt just a little smaller.
At the top, we found a viewpoint overlooking the entire valley. The cold breeze made me pull my
jacket tighter, but the view was worth it. The sight of the Himalayas in the distance, with their
snow-capped peaks, took my breath away.
Adi stood beside me, hands in his pockets. "Do you know, Trisha? This view seems to me to be
your future. Majestic, but a little intimidating. But once you understand, it is simply beautiful."
I looked at him, surprised by his seriousness. "Adi, do you know how deep you become
sometimes?"
He smirked. "Just sometimes. The rest of the time, nonsense according to your mood."
We spent a while up there, taking pictures, teasing each other, and soaking in the beauty of the
place. It felt like a moment frozen in time—a pocket of happiness amidst all the chaos.
As we descended in the cable car, Adi suggested, "Now let's do some shopping on the mall
road. I will get you a woolen shawl that you will always remember."
I laughed. "You just need an excuse to get something for yourself!"
"Yaa I guess soo," he admitted shamelessly.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of colorful markets, warm snacks, and endless laughter. For
the first time in a long time, I felt free—free to live in the moment, free to smile without holding
back, and free to hope for tomorrow.
And as the sun set over Nainital, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, I knew this trip
wasn't just an escape. It was a reminder: no matter how tough life got, there would always be
moments like these to hold on to.
As the sun set over Nainital, the golden hues fading into shades of pink and purple, Adi and I
decided to slow down and enjoy the evening. The day had been magical so far, but something
about the quiet beauty of the dusk made us want to soak in every moment.
We strolled along Mall Road, where the lights from small shops and cafes reflected on the lake.
The air was crisp, and the chatter of tourists filled the streets. Adi stopped at a shop selling
roasted bhutta (corn on the cob).
"One is spicy and one is normal," he told the vendor, handing over some cash.
"Adi, I don't want spicy!" I protested.
"Exactly why I ordered it for myself," he smirked, handing me the plain one.
We walked to the lakeside, munching on our bhuttas, the warmth of the roasted corn cutting
through the chilly air. The stars began to appear one by one, and their reflection on the lake
created a mesmerizing scene.
"Trisha," Adi said, his tone quieter now, "It seems as if this moment never ends. Peaceful aur
perfect."
I nodded, looking out at the water. "Sometimes it's the little things that seem most important,
don't they?"
"Yaa," he replied. "And if ever tough times come in life, just remember that such moments
always come back."
After our walk, we decided to end the day with a cozy dinner. We found a small, charming
restaurant overlooking the lake. The warm glow of fairy lights and the soft hum of live acoustic
music made it feel like a scene straight out of a dream.
We ordered hot soup, some local Kumaoni dishes, and a dessert to share. Adi, as usual,
couldn't resist stealing bites from my plate, and I couldn't resist throwing mock glares at him.
"your food is never finished?" I teased.
"What's yours is mine too" he replied, grinning.
As we finished dinner and stepped back onto Mall Road, the night had fully embraced the town.
The quiet hum of the lake and the cool breeze felt comforting. We sat by the lake one last time,
talking about everything and nothing, our voices blending with the soft lapping of the water
against the shore.
In that moment, I realized something. Life wasn't perfect, and maybe it never would be. But it
had its moments—moments like this, where everything felt just right. And with someone like Adi
by my side, I knew I could face whatever came next.
Eventually, tired but content, we headed back to our guesthouse, ready to rest and dream about
the adventures that awaited us tomorrow.
The next morning, we woke up early, greeted by the crisp mountain air and the chirping of birds
outside our window. It felt like the perfect start to a new day.
Adi was already up, surprisingly. "Trisha, get ready quickly," he called out, standing by the
window. "Let's start a new adventure today."
"Adventure?" I asked, still half-asleep. "what is the plan?"
He grinned. "Trekking. Tiffin Top chalenge."
The Trek to Tiffin Top
After a quick breakfast of parathas and chai, we set off for the trek. The trail was surrounded by
lush greenery, with sunlight filtering through the trees. Adi kept up his usual banter, making
jokes about how unfit I was because I kept stopping to catch my breath.
"Adi, stop it! You look like a mountain goat," I huffed, trying to keep up.
He laughed, offering me his hand to help me up a particularly steep patch. "I can also become a
fitness trainer for you."
"Thanks, but no thanks," I shot back, rolling my eyes.
Despite the teasing, the trek was beautiful. The views became more breathtaking with each
step, and by the time we reached Tiffin Top, I was completely in awe. The panoramic view of the
Himalayas and the surrounding valleys was worth every ounce of effort.
Adi sat down on a rock, pulling out a packet of chips from his bag. "Eat something, Trisha. You
will become unconscious right now."
I snatched the packet from him, laughing. "Shut up, Adi. Let me enjoy this view in peace."
We sat there for a while, soaking in the beauty of nature, the silence between us feeling
comforting.
Boating in Sattal
After the trek, we decided to visit Sattal, a cluster of serene lakes not far from Nainital. The drive
was peaceful, with the winding roads offering glimpses of the sparkling water below.
Once there, we rented another boat, this time rowing through the calm, emerald waters. Unlike
Naini Lake, Sattal felt more secluded and tranquil.
"It's a totally different vibe here," Adi said, dipping his hand into the water. "It's like we're in a
different world."
I nodded, smiling. "Maybe this is what I needed. To disconnect, to feel… alive again."
Adi looked at me, his usual goofy expression replaced with a rare seriousness. "Trisha, you will
always be alive. Just remember you are never alone."
His words stayed with me as we rowed silently, the gentle sound of the oars blending with the
rustling leaves.
Evening at the Eco Cave Gardens
As the day began to wind down, Adi suggested one last stop—the Eco Cave Gardens. The
interconnected caves were a fun yet slightly challenging experience, especially for someone like
me, who wasn't too fond of tight spaces.
"Adi, this is beyond my adventure limits," I said, hesitating at the entrance of one of the caves.
"Hey, just need to crawl a little," he teased. "If you fall, I am there to catch you."
"you are just for laughs," I shot back, laughing nervously.
We made it through the caves, though I might have screamed once or twice, much to Adi's
amusement. By the end, we were both tired but exhilarated, our spirits high from the day's
adventures.
Wrapping Up the Day
Back on Mall Road, we grabbed a quick dinner, this time opting for some delicious thukpa and
momos at a small Tibetan café. The cozy atmosphere and warm food felt like the perfect way to
end the day.
As we walked back to our guesthouse under the starry sky, Adi said, "Today was such an epic
day. what to do tomorrow?"
I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in days. "tomoroow amm? Let's just see where the day takes
us. Now I just have to live, Adi."
He nodded, grinning. "that's all I wanted to hear."
And with that, we ended another beautiful day in Nainital, ready for whatever adventure awaited
us next.
The next morning, we woke up feeling refreshed after the adventures of the previous day. The
sun peeked through the curtains, and the sound of birds chirping outside seemed to beckon us
for another day of exploration.
Adi, as always, was already awake and buzzing with energy. "Trisha, jaldi uth! Aaj Nainital ki
vibe ko aur deeply explore karte hain," he said, practically dragging me out of bed.
"Kya plan hai?" I asked, still rubbing my eyes.
"Pehle Naukuchiatal chalte hain, phir dekhenge!"
By mid-morning, we arrived at Naukuchiatal, the lake of nine corners. It was quieter and less
crowded than Nainital, with an almost mystical charm. The calm water reflected the surrounding
hills like a mirror, and the cool breeze carried the faint scent of pine.
We decided to try kayaking, something neither of us had done before. Adi, of course, claimed he
was a natural.
"Dekho, Trisha," he said, paddling awkwardly, "main toh expert lag raha hoon, na?"
"Expert lag nahi raha, expert ho raha hai!" I teased, laughing as his kayak wobbled.
Eventually, we found a rhythm and kayaked across the lake, soaking in the peace of the
moment. It felt surreal, like the worries of the real world didn't exist here.
Paragliding Adventure
Adi, being the adrenaline junkie he is, convinced me to try paragliding next. I was hesitant at
first—after all, the idea of running off a cliff wasn't exactly comforting—but his excitement was
infectious.
"Trisha, tu toh daredevil hai. Ek baar try kar ke dekh," he said, grinning mischievously.
Reluctantly, I agreed, and soon enough, we were harnessed and ready to take flight. As we ran
off the edge and soared into the sky, my fear melted away, replaced by awe. The view of the
rolling hills and sparkling lakes below was nothing short of magical.
"Adi!" I yelled mid-flight, the wind carrying my voice. "Yeh toh amazing hai!"
"Bol raha tha na!" he shouted back, his laughter echoing through the air.
After the adrenaline rush, we decided to end the day on a quieter note at Snow View Point,
accessible via the aerial ropeway. The view of the snow-capped Himalayan peaks was
breathtaking, especially as the setting sun painted the mountains in shades of orange and pink.
We sat on a bench, sipping hot chai and enjoying the chilly breeze. For a while, neither of us
spoke, content to simply exist in the moment.
"Trisha," Adi said softly, breaking the silence, "kabhi kabhi lagta hai, zindagi bas aise moments
ke liye hi bani hai."
I nodded, smiling. "Haan, Adi. Yeh moments hamesha yaad rahenge."
That night, back at the guesthouse, we joined a small bonfire arranged by the staff. Sitting under
the starry sky, surrounded by warmth and laughter, it felt like the perfect way to end the day. Adi
picked up a guitar someone had left behind and began strumming it, singing an off-key but
heartfelt rendition of a Bollywood classic.
I couldn't stop laughing. "Adi, tu singer mat ban, please!"
"Main toh tere liye gaa raha hoon," he said dramatically, earning a playful shove from me.
As the fire crackled and the night deepened, I realized how much this trip had given me—peace,
clarity, and memories I would cherish forever.
The next morning, we'd head back to reality. But for now, this moment, this day, was ours to
keep.
The next morning, as golden sunlight streamed through the curtains, I woke up with a
bittersweet feeling. It was our last day in Nainital, and while the thought of returning to reality
loomed over me, I was determined to make the most of our remaining time.
Adi, as usual, was already up, scrolling through his phone. "Good morning, Miss Late Riser," he
greeted with a grin. "Let's do something special today."
"Yeah, but it should be something peaceful," I replied, stretching.
"How about a sunrise trek to China Peak?" he suggested. "It's the highest point in Nainital, and
the view is supposed to be magical."
We set off early, with the faint glow of dawn guiding our way. The trail was quiet, and the only
sounds were the crunch of leaves beneath our feet and the occasional rustle of the wind. Adi
kept pointing out random things—a peculiar-shaped rock, a bird he couldn't name—just to keep
the mood light.
"Adi, you know you could totally be a nature guide," I teased.
"Just giving me backup career advice, huh?" he shot back, laughing.
When we finally reached the top, the view took my breath away. The sun was just rising, casting
a golden glow over the valleys and peaks below. The entire town of Nainital looked like a tiny,
enchanted village from up here.
We sat on a rock, sipping the tea we'd brought along in a thermos. For a while, neither of us
spoke. The moment was too beautiful for words.
Shopping Souvenirs on Mall Road
After descending from China Peak, we decided to spend our afternoon exploring Mall Road one
last time. Adi insisted on buying souvenirs, despite my protests that he'd end up overpacking.
"Look, Trisha," he said, holding up a hand-carved wooden keychain. "You should get this. Every
time you see it, you'll remember this trip."
I smiled and picked out a few trinkets myself—some woolen scarves, candles, and a small
painting of the lake.
We ended up at Naini Lake again, unable to resist one last boat ride. This time, we didn't talk
much. Instead, we let the silence between us speak, both of us lost in our thoughts.
"Adi," I finally said, breaking the stillness, "Thank you for this trip. It really meant a lot to me."
He looked at me, his expression soft. "You deserved this trip. And me? I'm always ready for any
trip as long as it's with you."
A Final Dinner with Memories
For our last meal in Nainital, we went to a cozy restaurant that overlooked the lake. Over plates
of steaming hot biryani and gulab jamun, we reminisced about the past few days—the laughs,
the scares, and the adventures.
"What will you remember the most from this trip?" I asked.
Adi thought for a moment and then grinned. "Your screaming in the cable car and running during
the trek."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Typical."
That night, as we packed our bags and prepared to leave, I felt a pang of sadness. Nainital had
given me something I hadn't realized I needed—clarity, hope, and the courage to face my fears.
As we sat on the balcony one last time, looking out at the twinkling lights of the town, Adi said,
"Trisha, this wasn't just a trip. It was a reminder—life is tough, but moments like these make it
worth it."
I nodded, feeling grateful. "And without friends, these moments wouldn't be possible."
"Exactly," he said, raising an imaginary toast. "To more adventures!"
"To more adventures," I echoed.
And with that, we let the magic of Nainital settle in our hearts, ready to carry it with us as we
returned to the real world.
The next morning, Adi and I packed our bags, preparing to leave Nainital. The air felt cooler, as
if the town was reluctant to let us go. We had a quiet breakfast at the guesthouse, our
conversation filled with laughter and nostalgic remarks about the trip.
As we loaded our bags into the car, Adi turned to me. "Trisha, before we leave, let's do one last
thing."
"What's on your mind now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Let's visit the Governor's House. It's on the way, and I read it's a piece of history worth seeing,"
he said, his excitement bubbling over.
The Raj Bhavan, with its colonial-style architecture and manicured gardens, was stunning. It felt
like stepping into another era. We walked around the grounds, taking in the beauty and
snapping a few photos to remember the place.
"Imagine living in a house like this," Adi said, pretending to puff out his chest like a royal.
I rolled my eyes, laughing. "You? In a palace? You'd turn the ballroom into a gaming zone!"
We wandered through the gardens, the tranquility of the place making it a perfect farewell to
Nainital.
As we hit the road, leaving the hills behind, the mood in the car shifted to something more
reflective. Adi played his favorite road trip playlist—old Bollywood classics mixed with some
indie tracks.
"Trisha," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, "what's the first thing you're going to do when
we get back?"
I thought for a moment. "Probably go back to my regular life. But this trip… it's given me a lot to
think about."
He nodded. "Good. Because I want you to remember that even when things feel overwhelming,
you can always escape for a while. And you'll always have someone to escape with."
I smiled at him, feeling a wave of gratitude. "Thanks, Adi. I don't think I say it enough, but I'm
lucky to have you."
"Stop getting emotional," he teased, grinning. "It's not goodbye; it's just back to reality—for now."
By the time we reached home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and
purple. Adi helped me unload my bags before saying goodbye.
"Same time, next trip?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Absolutely," I replied, laughing.
As he drove away, I stood at my doorstep, already missing the simplicity and joy of the past few
days. But I knew this wasn't the end—it was just the beginning of more adventures to come.
I walked inside, feeling lighter, braver, and more ready to face whatever life had in store for me.
After settling back into our routines for a few days, Adi and I kept talking about the Nainital trip,
constantly reliving the moments. One evening, Adi called me out of the blue.
"Trisha, what are you doing?" he asked.
"Nothing much. Just relaxing. Why?"
"I was thinking," he said with his usual excitement, "why don't we plan our next adventure?
Something bigger this time!"
"Adi, we just got back!" I replied, laughing. "And you're already planning the next one?"
"Of course!" he exclaimed. "Life's too short to stay in one place, Trisha. What about a road trip
to Spiti Valley? It's peaceful, adventurous, and the views are out of this world."
Over the next week, we started researching Spiti Valley—routes, places to stay, and things to
do. The excitement of planning a new trip gave us both something to look forward to.
During our calls, Adi would say things like, "Trisha, we'll camp under the stars!" or "We should
definitely visit the monasteries. They look so calming."
I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "Adi, are you sure you're ready for the cold there?"
"Trisha, I'll survive anything for an adventure," he replied confidently.
Between planning, I began to reflect on my health and how much the Nainital trip had helped
me mentally. I decided to visit my doctor for a check-up, determined to stay on top of my
condition so I could enjoy more adventures.
When I told Adi about it, he said, "Good. Because the only way I'm going to let you back out of
our Spiti trip is if the doctor orders it. And even then, I'll convince them to let you go!"
I laughed, grateful for his unwavering support.
A couple of weeks later, we finalized the dates for the trip. As we talked about the itinerary one
night, Adi said, "Trisha, this time, let's make a pact. No matter what happens, we'll always take
time out for adventures like these."
I smiled. "Deal. Because honestly, Adi, these trips remind me why life is worth living."
And with that, we began counting down the days to our next big adventure, ready to create new
memories and face whatever challenges came our way—together.
After finalizing the plan for Spiti Valley, Adi and I decided to prepare ourselves mentally and
physically for the challenging road trip ahead. Spiti wasn't just another vacation; it was going to
be an experience that tested us, inspired us, and created memories we'd treasure forever.
On a sunny Saturday morning, Adi picked me up, his car already loaded with camping gear,
snacks, and a detailed itinerary.
"Trisha, today we get everything sorted—gear, essentials, and most importantly, the playlists!"
he announced enthusiastically.
"Adi, you and your playlists," I teased. "What else is on the agenda?"
"We're going shopping for winter gear. Spiti's going to be freezing, and I'm not letting you freeze
into an icicle!"
Shopping for the Trip
We headed to a local adventure store, picking out thick jackets, gloves, woolen socks, and
thermal wear. Adi kept making funny comments about how oversized my jackets looked.
"Trisha, you look like a marshmallow!" he said, laughing.
"And you look like a walking snowman," I shot back, making both of us laugh.
We also stocked up on essentials like first aid kits, flashlights, and some extra snacks. Adi, as
usual, overdid it.
"Do we really need four packs of instant noodles, Adi?"
"Trisha, when we're in the middle of nowhere, you'll thank me!"
After shopping, we went to our favorite café to relax. Over steaming cups of hot chocolate, Adi
suddenly grew serious.
"Trisha," he began, his tone soft, "I know you don't talk about it much, but... I just want you to
know that no matter how many years you have left, I'm going to make sure we live each one to
the fullest."
His words hit me hard, and for a moment, I couldn't speak. Finally, I smiled. "Thank you, Adi.
You've always been there for me, and I couldn't ask for a better friend."
"And you never will," he replied with a grin, lightening the mood.
As the trip drew closer, we spent evenings fine-tuning the itinerary. Adi insisted on adding a stop
for star-gazing, while I wanted to spend more time at the monasteries.
"Fine," Adi relented, "but only if we get to do some off-roading too!"
"Deal," I said, laughing.
We both knew that this wasn't just about Spiti. It was about the journey, the memories we'd
make, and the promise to live fully despite the ticking clock.
The next few days passed in a blur of excitement and preparation. When the morning of our
departure finally arrived, we were both ready—not just for the road ahead, but for whatever life
had in store for us.
The morning of our Spiti Valley trip finally arrived. Adi showed up at my house just as the sun
was rising, honking his car horn like a maniac.
"Trisha! Let's go before I grow old waiting for you!" he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.
I grabbed my backpack, locked the door, and hopped into the car. The excitement in the air was
palpable.
As we drove out of the city, the landscapes slowly changed from bustling streets to open
highways and rolling hills. Adi had his road trip playlist on full blast, singing loudly and off-key to
every song.
"Adi, stop murdering the classics!" I teased, laughing.
"Excuse me, this is art," he replied, pretending to be offended.
We made a quick pit stop at a roadside dhaba for breakfast—hot parathas with dollops of butter
and steaming cups of chai. Sitting on the wooden benches, we talked about what we were
looking forward to most in Spiti.
"For me, it's the night skies," I said. "I've heard you can see the Milky Way there."
Adi nodded. "For me, it's the thrill of driving on those crazy mountain roads. And, of course,
seeing you scream every time there's a sharp turn."
"Very funny," I replied, rolling my eyes.
As we climbed higher into the mountains, the roads became narrower, winding along cliffs with
breathtaking views of valleys below. We stopped frequently to take photos, soaking in the
serenity of the snow-capped peaks and pristine rivers.
At one point, Adi pulled over at a small waterfall cascading down the rocks.
"Let's take a break here," he said. "This place feels magical."
We sat by the waterfall, letting the cool mist hit our faces. Adi handed me a bottle of water and
said, "This is why I love road trips—moments like these."
"Same," I replied softly, feeling at peace.
By late afternoon, we reached Reckong Peo, a small town en route to Spiti. We checked into a
cozy guesthouse, where the owner welcomed us with warm smiles and even warmer tea.
As we unpacked, Adi said, "Trisha, let's explore the market here before it gets dark."
We strolled through the bustling streets, picking up some local handicrafts and chatting with the
friendly locals. Adi, as usual, managed to make everyone laugh with his humor.
That evening, we sat on the balcony of the guesthouse, looking out at the stars. The town was
quiet, with only the occasional sound of wind rustling through the trees.
"Adi," I said, breaking the silence, "thank you for doing all this. You make life feel... lighter."
He looked at me, his expression serious for once. "Trisha, you deserve all the lightness in the
world. And as long as I'm here, I'll make sure you have it."
I smiled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the tea in my hands.
As we drifted off to sleep that night, I couldn't help but feel grateful—for the journey, for the
beauty of the mountains, and for having a friend like Adi by my side. This was just the beginning
of our Spiti adventure.
The next morning in Reckong Peo, we woke up early to catch the sunrise. The town was still
asleep, the air crisp and filled with the faint smell of pine. Adi and I grabbed our jackets and
stepped out onto the balcony of our guesthouse.
"Look at that," Adi whispered, pointing to the horizon.
The first rays of sunlight lit up the snow-capped peaks of the Kinnaur Kailash range, painting the
mountains in hues of gold and pink. It was breathtaking.
"Totally worth waking up early for," I said, sipping on the hot tea the guesthouse owner had
brought us.
"See? I'm full of great ideas," Adi said with a grin.
After breakfast, we packed up and hit the road again, making our way toward Nako Lake, a
serene spot nestled in the mountains. The drive was stunning, with steep cliffs on one side and
the sparkling Sutlej River on the other.
At Nako, we parked the car and walked to the lake, which was surrounded by willow and poplar
trees. The water was so still that it reflected the sky and the surrounding mountains like a mirror.
"Trisha, this feels like a painting," Adi said, looking around in awe.
We sat by the lake for a while, dipping our fingers into the icy water and talking about everything
and nothing. Adi suggested we visit the nearby monastery, and I eagerly agreed.
The Nako Monastery, with its ancient murals and peaceful vibe, left us both in awe. As we
wandered through its quiet halls, I found myself feeling a deep sense of calm.
"Trisha, imagine living here, away from all the chaos," Adi said.
"It would be peaceful," I replied, "but I think I'd miss the chaos a little. Especially the chaos you
bring into my life."
Adi laughed. "Admit it—you'd be bored without me."
"Maybe," I said, smiling.
As we were leaving Nako, tiny flakes of snow started falling. Adi and I looked at each other,
grinning like kids.
"It's snowing!" I exclaimed, holding out my hands to catch the flakes.
Adi grabbed his phone and started filming. "This is going into the trip highlights," he said.
We spent a few minutes just enjoying the snow, letting it add a magical touch to an already
unforgettable day.
That evening, as we settled into another guesthouse, we started planning the next leg of our
journey to Tabo.
"Tabo Monastery is over a thousand years old," Adi said, scrolling through his phone. "It's going
to blow our minds."
"I can't wait," I replied, feeling a growing sense of excitement.
As we drifted off to sleep that night, the snowfall continuing outside, I couldn't help but feel
overwhelmed by the beauty of the trip so far—and by the realization that every day was a gift,
made even more special by having Adi by my side.