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I reached Tabo in the desert mountain valley of Spiti, which is tucked into the north-eastern part of Himachal Pradesh, 3,200 m above mean sea level. 

A cold wind was helping the restless gravel on the ground to move in whirlwinds creating a whirring sound. This was comforting because I couldn’t hear anything but silence and neither could I see anybody. It was me, the Tabo gate, gravel and mountains all around. 

Suddenly, I heard giggling and saw three girls who could be my possible guides. One of the girls saw me standing awkwardly and excitedly moved in my direction: to rescue me. I asked her some questions about cheap guesthouses and instead of just telling me the names she walked me there.

I got a decently priced room with an attached bathroom (which is a luxury because most budget guesthouses have a communal system). After a lot of persuasive haggling the guesthouse caretaker finally gave in. The sweet Spiti girl deposited me at the guesthouse and left, not giving me enough time to thank her.  

I settled in and realized that I needed to pull out some money because I was left with my last 500 rupee note. I asked the guest-house manager where the nearest ATM (automated teller machine) was. A nagging feeling kept returning that Spiti had no ATMs but I was absolutely sure that my feeling was inappropriate. If Ladakh could have two ATMs at a height of 3,600 m above mean sea level, so could Spiti. 

There are no ATMs in Tabo — they were planning to get them by next year, the manager mentioned. That was the first blow. Kaza was my next destination and I could withdraw money there; until then I had to manage with Rs 500. He looked at me with amusement and mentioned that there are no ATMs in the whole Spiti valley. This final blow silenced me completely. 

How could somebody be so stupid, especially when I was lugging around the Lonely Planet traveler’s guide? This meant that I had to go back to Peo or Manali — which were 10 and 15 hours away.  After traveling for three days continuously I needed a break. My body was crying out for rest. 

With the expenses of food, stay and a bus ticket Rs 500 was just too little to survive on, even for an extra day. I wanted to cry. I needed some familiar face or voice to console me. To add to my misery I had no network coverage for my phone. Scared and unsure of what to do next, I went to the terrace of my guesthouse to calm my nerves. The beautiful view was no help; it only made me realize how far I was away from home.

I told the caretaker of my catch 22 situation and his response was: "You should not travel alone and should have your husband or boyfriend with you.” I thought I should bump him off the terrace or just push him. Even at a height of 3,200 m I’m not spared from a sexist pig! 

Withholding my anger I mentally adjust to leave the next day. I am famished but fearful to enter the guesthouse restaurant. The prices are way above my budget. I had to skip dinner. On my way back to the room I spied one of the sweet Spiti girls. She asked me if everything is okay and I state my problem. The next thing I’m doing is sitting in her house, with her older cousin and adorable younger one, eating dinner with them. 

She didn’t ask me any questions, didn’t provide any advice or opinions: she just helped me. The food was cooked for three people but they accommodated the fourth — me! 

We were women from different backgrounds experiencing different lives, we looked different but we shared the same enthusiasm of our gender. We were strong, independent women trying to live in a man’s world by making a small but significant difference. The older cousin was in charge of her taluka/district. She was bringing electricity to the houses along with eco-friendly street lamps. One was studying at college and the younger cousin was beginning school.

They made it possible for me to stay and experience another day in Tabo. In the land of lamas I actually felt like one. They fed me, provided accommodation and took care of a perfect stranger. 

The next day I went to see the 1,000-year-old Tabo monastery which has been declared a World Heritage site. The monastery compound consists of nine temples. Taking pictures of the paintings, sculptures and wall texts in the monastery is not allowed — which is a shame because they are spectacular; but to preserve them for the future, it is necessary. 

Tabo had a helipad tucked away in a corner on a cliff cordoned by a stone boundary. Sitting on the stone boundary one can see the Spiti River flowing alongside the cliff. 

Jumping over the boundary to get to the open side of the cliff I saw a few cows huddled around a colossal garbage heap of plastic bottles, chomping away to glory. The plastic bottles were so casually strewn but veiled from the naked eye. I think even the bottles were ashamed of their presence in this faultless surrounding; so they hid behind the boundary. 

Why are we deliberately killing our country by smothering her with our rubbish? We are lucky to have such beauty. We need to take more care of her or else she will lash out at us like a rebellious child who hates his/her parents. We have been calling her ‘Mother India’ because she took care of us and now it is time for her children to take care of her.  

The eventful day ended with a phone call to home! I needed to speak to my father who has a very calming effect on me. I had to relate the events of the past two days — remember I didn’t have money for a long conversation! He was calm but I could feel both apprehension and relief in his voice. He wanted to help but we both knew he was helpless. Just hearing a familiar voice was all the help I needed then. Assistance had already come in the form of the three sweet Spiti girls. 

I was about to pay for the call when the person manning the booth refused to accept the money. I stared at him. He said he had overheard my conversation and didn’t think it right to take money from me. It was only four rupees which, despite my pathetic monetary condition, was not much money. In addition, he told me about his brother-in-law who ran a taxi service in Kaza. Once I got to Kaza he would tell his brother-in-law to pay for my accommodation, food and transport to Manali (in his taxi) and I could repay him there. I was stunned by his kindness.

I had assumed such kindness did not exist. Maybe it does and I just forgot. I asked the kind man if my dad could call back on his phone. I needed to hear his voice for more than a few seconds. He agreed but now I wonder if he had to pay for the incoming call!

What did I do to deserve such compassion from the people of Spiti? The kind man’s gesture and the sweet Spiti girls made a permanent imprint on my mind. ‘All you need is love’ — is what the Beatles song stated years ago but today I understand what they meant.  

A chemistry graduate, Arnaz Mistry has worked in the media, advertising and public relations fields. With both her parents being mountaineers, she has acquired a love for traveling and hiking and was always keen on backpacking.