Yes, this is a long overdue post. I was afraid either would I blank out and not know what to write, or would end up writing a thesis. The blank word document lying open on my laptop was teasing me all along, and I found myself diverted fully into cutting my nails, failing to find the right words to express those emotions, the way I wanted to.
With words falling short to frame those experiences, I simply started to recollect my memories from the trip, only to realize how those moments, when stitched together, became larger than life.
The night was cold and windy, with the clock struck half past 10. I fixed his blanket and covered his bare feet, he mumbled, and fell asleep again. Silently, I got down from the bed, slid into the slippers, and came out from the tent flap, as I wanted to live in the painting like landscape for some more time.
I looked around.
Pangong Lake was tinted with the darkest shade of indigo, and the grey sky was hovering over the mountains. There was a chill in the breeze, carrying a faint familiar odour, but it was gone before I could recognize it.