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“Don’t be a gama, in the land of lama”, read the Border Roads Organization’s (BRO) Milestone as we drove through the long unwinding roads, amidst the barren mountains of the Ladakh valley. I’d left a well-paying job in the city to work as a volunteer in a local hospital in Leh. Even though I was amidst the mountains, visiting peaceful monasteries, I craved mobile network to reach out to my friends and family. I loved the Himalayan life for its simplicity and warmth, but my problem was that there was too much free time, and honestly I wasn’t much of an interesting person by myself. “We’ll be there in 15 minutes, didi”, promised the driver, as I peeped my head out of the window to spot the next milestone. “Go slow on my curves”, read this one. I chuckled as we drove through the narrow winding roads of the Ladakh valley. 3 kilometers into the village, we stopped in front of a dilapidated wooden house. With a broken latch and a few grey rags hanging outside to dry. A gentle knock on the door opened up to a blank stare and a confused smile of an 80-year-old man. I was here to collect his urine culture, to be sent to the lab for testing. He had called in to complain about a pain in his abdomen, but was too old to travel. As he scanned us from top to bottom, he found a familiar face in the driver and soon his blank stare turned into a warm toothless grin. “Welcome, doctor, please come in. Lunch is almost ready.” “Do we have time for lunch? We need to send the samples to the lab before 4pm. Let’s grab a quick bite at Maggie point on our way back?”, I asked the driver. “Didi, we don’t have shops here. No truck can pass these narrow roads, we always stop by at somebody’s house for food and rest.” We heard the pressure cooker whistle as uncle walked in the room with a handful of old photographs. He sat between me and the driver and together we flipped through the pile of sepia toned memories. “This beautiful lady, is my wife. You know where I met her for the first time? “Her father was the first person to be granted pension in the entire district. The whole village was invited. That day, we ended up dancing in the party for 4 hours.” “And every day since the day I married her, we’ve been dancing together”. There was a child-like excitement in his tone as he fondly remembered his wife. With a tear trickling down his wrinkled cheeks, he did the most unexpected thing. He stood up and proclaimed, “Common, get up!” Local Ladakhi music blasted from the stereo as he broke into a carefree dance with arms wide open and his eyes shut. He danced as if no one was watching. As if he was having a private celebration. Next up was the driver. He added a few Bollywood moves to his dance while I cheered enthusiastically. “This is not a performance to entertain tourists, show us your disco moves.” Reluctantly I approached the carpet, the make-believe dance floor, and displayed my basic dance moves. They were the same resistant moves we do at a club right before the alcohol kicks in. While the driver and uncle took the performance level a notch higher, I found solace in my hesitance. Soon it was time to leave, I gave him a warm hug and thanked him for the fun time. Uncle snapped back immediately, “This was fun? In fact, today was one of the most boring sessions for me. I have so much more fun, when I am by myself. It’s always the best when you don’t have the burden of involving other people in your fun. We lost so much time in getting you to lose your inhibitions. The next time someone asks you for a dance, just go out there and have fun.” As I sat in the car, plugged into my earphones, the next milestone sign (more like a sign from life) read, “Eager to last? Then why go so fast?”