Leh in 48 Hours: Crying, Dancing, Shopping

Some people come to Leh to find inner peace. Others come to reconnect with nature, spirituality, or themselves.
I came for two days and somehow left with forty Buddhist trinkets, and a suitcase that now requires diplomatic negotiations to close.

Here is the complete account of my brief but eventful relationship with Leh.

Independence Day

I landed in Leh on August 15th, which felt appropriately patriotic and medically questionable.

At 11,500 feet, every activity becomes an endurance sport. Walking. Talking. Standing. Thinking. And expressing gratitude to servicemen without sounding like you’ve just run a marathon. The town was alive with Independence Day celebrations, and I spent part of the day shaking hands with soldiers and thanking them for their service. It was genuinely moving.

It was also difficult to tell whether the emotion in my voice came from patriotism or the fact that my lungs were operating on what felt like a free trial version of oxygen.

Nothing says national pride quite like needing a recovery period after a heartfelt conversation.

 

The Hall of Fame Museum

You know the type. A few tanks. Some uniforms. A couple of photographs. Perhaps a sign explaining military history.

Instead, it reached into my chest, grabbed my heart, and squeezed. Among the exhibits is a letter written by a young officer to his parents before he died in battle. Reading it was like being hit by an emotional freight train.

One minute I was examining artillery displays with the detached curiosity of a tourist. The next, I was standing in a corner trying very hard not to cry in public.

I failed.

If you visit, carry tissues. Carry extra tissues. Carry enough tissues to supply a small pharmacy.

Your dignity will not be making the return journey.

 

Retail Therapy

After reducing visitors to emotional rubble, Leh thoughtfully provides a market only a few minutes away. Coincidence? I think not.

The market is a wonderful maze of pashmina shawls, prayer flags, Buddhist artefacts, jewellery, and shopkeepers possessing sales skills that should probably be studied by business schools.

 

I entered several shops with the noble intention of “just browsing.” This is the travel equivalent of saying, “I’ll only have one potato chip.”

By the end of the trip, I owned pashmina shawls, and a suspicious number of prayer bead bracelets despite not being entirely sure what percentage of my spirituality can be purchased retail.

 

Monasteries, Stupas, Rancho’s, and a Short-Lived Dance Career

Leh has a way of making even the least spiritual visitor consider self-improvement.

We visited monasteries and a Shanti Stupa perched dramatically against mountains that looked as though they had been painted directly onto the sky.

Everything felt calm, peaceful, and ancient.

 

Then someone invited me to join a traditional Tibetan dance. The transition from “contemplating the nature of existence” to “waving my arms in public” was surprisingly swift.

 

I would describe my dancing as a fusion of enthusiasm, confusion, and mild concern. Imagine a tourist attempting to herd invisible yaks while receiving conflicting instructions from several parts of her body.

 

The locals were wonderfully encouraging. Or possibly amused. At this altitude, it can be difficult to distinguish between the two.

We stopped at Druk White Lotus School, better known to Bollywood fans as Rancho’s school from 3 Idiots. Unfortunately, we were the two idiots who had never seen 3 Idiots. So while everyone else was reliving iconic movie moments, we were standing there thinking, Nice school.

We had somehow managed to visit one of Ladakh’s most famous film locations without understanding why anyone was excited about it. A remarkable achievement, really.

 

 

Thukpa: The Soup That Saved a Life

By lunchtime I was ready to consume anything that wasn’t moving. A steaming bowl of thukpa arrived and immediately solved most of my problems.

Not all of them. The suitcase situation was already becoming serious.

But the soup restored enough energy for me to continue sightseeing and, more importantly, shopping.

 

Later we stopped at a small café inside a monastery. It looked exactly like the sort of place meditation apps are trying to imitate—soft light. Quiet conversations. Prayer flags fluttering outside—the faint scent of incense.

There I sat, sipping lemon ginger tea and pretending to have achieved enlightenment. In reality, I was mentally calculating whether the shawls would fit into one suitcase if folded with sufficient optimism.

 

And Finally: Shopping (Obviously)

Day Two should have been devoted to restraint. Instead, it became the final phase of a highly successful shopping campaign.

My notes from that afternoon contain a single triumphant entry: FINISHED WITH SHOPPING.

 

The fact that it is written entirely in capital letters suggests this was less an observation and more a declaration of victory. A battle had been fought.

---

Official Customs Declaration, Leh Edition

Emotional baggage: 1 (formerly checked, now permanently carried on, thanks to a letter I will be thinking about at inconvenient moments for the rest of my natural life)

Physical baggage: Over limit. Significantly. The airline does not accept “but the shawls were on sale” as an excuse; I have learned.