Finding peace and self in Mcleodganj

I am a mountain girl — by soul, by story, by love. But the beginning of this lifelong affair traces its roots back to a quiet hill town tucked in the arms of the Dhauladhar range, Mcleodganj.

It was the early 2000s. Summer had brought my family to this quaint hillside escape, still untouched by the rush of tourists, still wrapped in the serenity that no brochure could capture. I remember arriving and being instantly drawn into its rhythm — the maroon robes of monks drifting silently through narrow alleys, the crisp mountain breeze carrying chants and silence alike, and those prayer flags fluttering like whispered blessings above every shop and home.

That morning, we visited the main temple.

And something shifted.

I sat there, surrounded by stillness and soft-spoken divinity, for what felt like hours. In that hush, I didn’t just find peace — I found myself. Or perhaps, I left a piece of my heart behind for the winds to guard.

Since then, whenever life grows heavy with routine or loses its colour, I return. Not as a tourist. As a seeker. A familiar soul retracing steps to the place that first taught her how to listen — to silence, to self, to sacred landscapes.

Manav Mander, Ludhiana