Kalpa: A gentle pause at the confluence of silence & spirit

Nestled in Kinnaur, Himachal, Kalpa is not a destination but a gentle pause — the kind you take between stories. Returning from Spiti, we halted here. While my husband napped, I stepped into Kalpa’s rhythm, walking through its apple orchards that whispered secrets of autumn and a chowk that felt like its heartbeat.

Just next to our hotel, an orchard spilled over with ripe apples, and I plucked one, biting into freshness off the branch, its crispness rivalled only by the mountain air.

I passed old homes with carved wooden facades, slate roofs, one of which opened its doors thanks to a kind woman who gifted me a green Kinnauri cap, a token now preserved with the reverence of memory.

In the chowk that evening, two women chatted their night away, a gentle dog curled at their feet. No cafés, no restaurants — just neighbourhood shops stacked with veggies and biscuits. That moment lingered. A fleeting wish surfaced: if only I had all the time in the world, like them, to sit and talk into the night.

I devoured thukpa and momos at a modest shop, followed by a chilled kulfi in a chilly night —simple joys, carried warmly in hindsight.

Our hotel balcony framed the mighty Kinner Kailash range in full glory. At sunrise, the peaks lit up slowly — first a blush, then fire. It was the kind of spectacle you don’t just watch; you feel it.

Next morning, we walked to a monastery, where prayer flags danced against Himalayan air and dragons carved into pillars watched over chortens. Tibetan and Hindu beliefs here live not just side by side but are interwoven.

We were also fortunate to witness the Devta procession — locals carrying the deity’s palki, music and incense trailing behind.

Kalpa is peace carved in wood, sunrise in a shawl, and belief shared without borders. You don’t just visit Kalpa. You arrive… and you listen, and are captivated forever.

Manav Mander, Ludhiana