A leisurely afternoon was spent basking in the sunlight along the hill slopes behind the guest house, after which we headed towards the village of Chorwan. We were walking along the narrow village roads, when it started raining suddenly. Other villagers entered a house nearby, and the owner insisted we rest at their place too. Theirs was the last house before the border, a mere 15 minute walk from the first Pakistani village on the other side; a modest abode with the entire family living in a single elevated room, along with a shed for cattle. Talking to them over chai and roti (we ate, while they observed Roza), we realized that it's a difficult life for them, cut off from the rest of the world for over six months every year due to heavy snowfall. They stock up for these months during the other six months, including food for their cattle. But one look from their window would put most of our sea-facing and valley-facing apartments to shame, and the contentment and happiness on their faces is something most of us can only dream of having.