In a quiet corner of Leh, Ladakh, a sunlit room above a glacier stream becomes a sanctuary of stillness; where morning light dances, temple bells chime, and time gently slows.
In the heart of Leh, where the old city leans gently into the mountains and prayer flags flicker in the thinnest air, I found a room that felt like it had been waiting for me. It wasn’t grand or new, just a quiet space tucked into a family-run inn, halfway between the dusty market road and the stone path that led up to a small Buddha temple.
However, there was something about the light.
Every morning the light arrived differently, as if it had learned the shape of the room overnight. It leapt in through the windows, played, slipped through the wooden frames in soft ribbons, caught the edges of the bedsheet, moved across the walls like a story being told. At a certain hour, it reflected off the glass of the framed photo above the desk and danced across the ceiling in gold patterns. I stopped checking the time there, the sunlight became the clock.
Just beneath the window, a glacier stream ran clear and cold. Its voice was always present, constant, even in the quiet of dawn, almost as if it were gently reminding me of its presence. I’d sit by the window for hours with tea in hand, or a glass of Sea Buckthorn Juice, listening to its unrushed rhythm. Sometimes a bird would land on the ledge and watch the water, just as I was.
Then, there were the bell chimes.
From the little temple across the lane came soft peals in the early morning hours. I still remember how they were light and metallic, but never startling. They floated through the air and into the room like they belonged there. There were bells for prayer, for time passing, for devotion, and for inner peace. Honestly, they complemented the silence like they were made for each other.
The room itself was simple with two wooden chairs, a tea table, a cupboard for storage and a locally made wooden bed, dressed with soft, fresh sheets; you know, the kind that give you a feel of home away from home. I wrote more in my five days of stay there, than I had in the three months before.
Our mornings began with breakfast that was made in-house by a lean young boy; they called him ‘Bhaskit’, and there was magic in the food he made, so delicious, so memorable, so homely.
When I left, the owner smiled and handed me a small sprig of juniper, dry, fragrant, meant for burning or for keeping, and I carried it home with me.
Even now, miles away, I still remember how that room held light, and I am not talking about just sunlight, it was the kind of light that fills your heart with warmth and stays with you years after you’ve left.
Where: The Puma House, Spang chenmo, near women’s alliance office, Leh, Ladakh 194101
When: Mid-September
Book Here:
https://tripadvisor.tpk.lu/uo8QIaQt
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https://booking.tpk.lu/i5Q26dfs
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https://agoda.tpk.lu/uZOZIBE2
