From escapism to connection: Lost & Found in the Himalayas

2016: I was going through a break-up with an entire world of mine — a profession I was no longer thriving in, a city which was no longer inspiring; and relationships with colleagues, friends, lovers, and family having no more juice to linger on. My route to finding solace from a noisy life brought me to Uttarakhand time and again: to walk up to the Himalayas, and camp in totally disconnected hinterlands, and more often to the banks of Ganges in Rishikesh to spend some reflective time alone. All of this gradually prepared me to declare the break-up, including my career as a journalist. The courage was fueled by my first 10-day Vipassana meditation course in May, 2016, which helped me recognise a lack of integrity in these relationships, and therefore, take the leap.

After a few months with my family which unsuccessfully pushed me to get odd jobs in my hometown, I moved away to volunteer with a newborn organisation working towards social impact in the Himalayas. I lived out of a village cut off from the road where one would hike uphill for two and a half miles to reach a facility developed for the tourists who wanted to experience village life. While most tourists were kind to nature and humans, whom I enjoyed hosting as part of my initial job role, some of them were extravagantly insensitive, giving us a hard time. I didn’t originally anticipate this stint to be longer than a few months, and at many points, I had thought of giving up, and giving into uncertainty again. Although the first few months were hard in the presence of many kinds of withdrawal symptoms, a completely new kind of work which at times overwhelmed me, I managed to find acceptance in the local community which made me feel at home, while partly depending up on hallucinogens to help me stay distracted from the suffering which I eventually realised was entirely internal and mine.

2017: I was working harder than ever before in my life. The energy of this place at around 2300 meters of altitude, tucked deep inside a Himalayan valley with lush green cedar, oak, and rhododendron forest around was supportive. I had learnt to balance my days of overwhelm caused by people visiting from the cities to ‘vacate’ themselves with quiet time walking on the forest trails, meditating in ruined village establishments, and often spending time with the goats - feeding them, cleaning their shelter, and making sure that the new born babies are well taken care of.

I witnessed the first snowfall of my life which was a magical experience. The neighbours around were more open, welcoming, and warm by the winter. I would often spend time with them, listening to their stories, visiting their homes over simple, yet delicious meals, sometimes spending the nights in their shelters, running around with the children and taking dips in canals on hot summer afternoons, cleaning the village, and occasionally cleaning the village together while raising slogans against non-biodegradable waste increasing in the surroundings.

After almost a year in the countryside, my work got promoted and demanded me to move to a city. With a heavy heart and without all my belongings, I relocated with a hope to go back to all the things, people, and places which had made me feel home. The level of my work changed along with the set of people at work and outside of it, aspirations, challenges, and the location. What remained constant was a willingness that was earlier undiscovered, excitement to pursue new learnings, and an unknown desire to form human connections.

Fast forward to 2024, and I find myself back in this place. I have the opportunity to walk the familiar earth once again for a few days, observing the monsoon skies with clouds drifting overhead, shrouding everything in mist before unveiling the wonders beyond - the azure skies, the majestic Himalayas, the twinkling stars and their constellations, and occasionally during the moments of discomfort, insights into life's profound questions.

I return to the same community that once embraced me like family during the years 2016 - 2017. Not much has changed, except for the impact of climate change, leading to delayed rainfall and reduced or absent snowfall affecting the local farming practices. The people here retain their pure hearts, offering solace and compelling reasons for me to prolong my stay. Memories of our shared moments still linger in their minds — Daadi, the elderly grandmother, fondly remembers how I used to bring her red cabbage and exotic vegetables wrapped in my shawl. I recall her insistence that I drink her buffalo's milk every time I passed by her traditional high-altitude seasonal mud house, known as a "Chhani."

My other neighbour, now in his thirties, still laments his lack of experience with city life. He and his wife continue to call out my name from afar, inviting me for evening gatherings around the Chulha, fire pit. Their horses still roam near my cottage, providing a melodic backdrop to my online meetings with the jingling of the bells around their necks. When I ventured into town, they would send me off with wild cucumbers and farm-fresh snacks. Some days, I would even teach English and other subjects to eager young boys from a neighbouring village who trekked a long distance to learn.

All these moments and more defined my daily life in the village during that time. It is a privilege to relive those days, tinged with the sad uncertainty of when such an experience may occur again.

These individuals, with their warm hearts, enveloped me in their affection and kindness during a time when I was struggling with human connections, navigating isolation and escapism. Unknowingly, they imparted lessons on living harmoniously within human ecosystems, families, and alongside other living creatures. My once-cherished belief in thriving independently now holds little significance. I began discovering joy through human interactions — a sentiment that has continued to flourish within me from 2016 to the present day.

Over these years, I've learned to see the miracles around me rather than escaping to find them elsewhere. I’ve learned to address lapses in integrity sooner rather than later, and I’ve learned to let go of what doesn't serve anyone. A quote from Willa Cather in her novel Death Comes for the Archbishop resonates deeply with me: “Miracles rest not so much upon healing power coming near us from afar, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that, for a moment, our eyes can see and our ears can hear what has been there around us always.”

I continue to practice Vipassana meditation to this day. Over the past nine years, dedicated meditation has rewired my mind, replacing impulsive reactions with clarity, resilience, and purpose. Born into a middle-class migrant family in the conflict-ridden region of Jammu and Kashmir, India, my early years were shaped by instability and trauma. I sought distractions from my suffering through seeking fame as a young public figure, and when that public image faded, through substance use. Recognising my internal suffering as the root of my troubled relationships with family, lovers, and past careers was a turning point. Only through healing my relationship with myself was I able to heal my relationships with others, while welcoming new, and long-lasting connections which have been equally nourishing as the old ones.

Integrating Vipassana principles with modern neuroscience-backed methodologies from my training as a life coach at Academy for Coaching Excellence in California, US, I experienced profound healing — physically, emotionally, and financially. It transcended every aspect of my life – my habits, fitness, career, and relationships.

This fusion of spirituality with modern science enabled me to craft an unconventional career as a life coach, social entrepreneur, mindfulness practitioner, educator, and author of children’s books. Vipassana provided a structured approach to healing, while scientific tools accelerated my ability to replace limiting beliefs with self-confidence, dignity, and a capacity for risk-taking to design a deeply fulfilling life.

Today, my work spans urban and rural communities — from the Indian Himalayas to Thailand — where I integrate these frameworks to help individuals navigate their inner world and drive lasting, positive change in ecological and social spheres. As a life coach, social entrepreneur, author, and educator, I explore the intersection of meditation, neuroscience, personal transformation, and social change, offering insights into how inner mastery translates into sustainable external impact. I also lecture at universities across India and Thailand.

When I arrived in the Himalayas, I felt lost, but it was here — through these meaningful connections, the natural surroundings, and the human capacity for deep inner work — that I found myself.

As a life-design coach, I support people thrive through change and transition with easeful and wise action. If you'd like to explore this theme with me, I'd be delighted to connect.