It was a summer trip, but the monsoons had arrived early — an unexpected gift. For the first time, we found ourselves in the hills during the rains, a season usually shunned for fear of landslides and slippery roads. Yet, Narkanda welcomed us with a kind of quiet magic.

The journey itself was a revelation. Apple orchards lined the winding roads; their fruit protected under white nets that blanketed entire mountainsides. From a distance, it looked like fresh snowfall had kissed the slopes. We stopped often, clicking pictures, soaking in the misty charm. I’ve always believed the journey holds more beauty than the destination — and this one, with clouds hanging low and old Bollywood hits playing in the car, felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake from.

Our cottage, nestled among congested p

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