Finding Myself in the Snow: A Journey Beyond Marriage
Marriage brings change—and it brought change into my life, too.
Once a bubbly, free-spirited girl with a passion for travel, I slowly slipped into a routine of responsibilities. Fifteen years passed in the rhythm of caring for my family, one day blending into the next. Travel dreams faded. Spontaneity dimmed. Small arguments became normal. And somewhere in that blur, I began to disappear.
We women are often taught to forgive and forget, to sacrifice our desires quietly for the sake of harmony. I did the same. But something about the fight last night felt different—like a nail sealing a box I no longer wanted to live in.
Restless and caught in my thoughts, I found myself scrolling through Telegram. That’s when I stumbled upon a trekking group. Without thinking much, I joined. It felt like a tiny spark in the darkness—my thing, something just for me.
To my surprise, the group had a trek scheduled for the very next morning, and one spot was still available. In a moment of sheer instinct, I grabbed it.
That night, I packed in complete silence. At 5 a.m., I slipped out into the dark, my heart pounding wildly. My legs felt heavy, like Sunny Deol’s iconic ‘dhai kilo ka haath’, both nervous and scared. But I had made up my mind. I left behind a simple note:
“After 15 long years, I am going to meet myself once again.”
Hours of travel in a rental car followed by long stretches of walking eventually led us to our destination. The entire way, I remained quiet. Doubt whispered constantly: Was this the right decision? Are my kids okay? Is he missing me too?
More than once, I pulled out my phone to call home—but stopped myself. There was a war in my mind between guilt and longing. I had to remind myself: Buck up, girl. You’re here now. Live this moment.
And then… I looked around.
Snow blanketed the earth like a delicate white sheet. The silence was so pure, I could hear my own heartbeat. The view was not just scenic—it was soulful. For the first time in years, I wasn’t just breathing—I was feeling.
As dusk fell, rain turned to snow, and we hurried back to the hotel. I assumed the night would be spent alone in a quiet room. But the hotel had other plans.
The staff arranged dinner by the bonfire in the hall. Warm food, crackling flames, and soon… music. What began as a cozy meal transformed into an impromptu musical night.
Till then, I had only ever danced at family weddings, keeping it graceful and restrained. But that night? I danced like no one was watching. Freely. Fiercely. Joyfully.
Even those who once thought I was introverted joined in. Two middle-aged women from the hotel—Suzy and Jenny—couldn’t resist either. Together, we danced Bachata-style to full-on Bollywood beats. Western moves, Indian hearts.
I still hadn’t spoken to my children that day. The phone network didn’t help, but a part of me knew I needed this break. And somewhere between the music and the laughter, the guilt began to melt away.
We danced like it was the last day of our lives.
That trip changed everything.
The women I met became more than travel buddies—they became my sorority. We began traveling together often, healing pieces of ourselves with each journey.
Last year, I had the honor of visiting London as part of a government-sponsored celebration of Dr. Ambedkar Jayanti. And guess who I met there? Suzy and Jenny! Grannies now, but still full of spark—as if time had only added to their charm.
Just yesterday, I saw Kangana Ranaut’s video of snowfall in Himachal on Instagram, and it brought all those memories flooding back. That first solo trip, the strangers who became friends, the woman I met after 15 years—myself.
That journey didn’t just take me up a mountain.
It brought me home—to the girl I thought I’d lost.
And every time it snows, I remember…
The magic of that moment. The power of reclaiming your life. 💫
Spill. Stir. Stay tuned As Not all drama belongs in court.
