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The calmness of Nubra Valley was lingering in my mind. I could still feel the cool gurgling water of the stream under my feet. Tired from traveling along the snaking roads of India’s only cold desert, we were all sprawled in the hotel lounge waiting for the Wi-Fi to connect after two days of being off the grid. My phone finally received some signal and I was flooded with messages. Today was the last day of my college admission. My father and I immediately started to the Leh market in search of internet cafes because the Wi-Fi in the hotel was barely enough to receive messages. We entered a small room with 10 computers arranged by the walls. The owner was a middle-aged man, huddled up in a blue woolly sweater. He was engrossed in his newspaper which probably informed him about the constant political tension in his state. There wasn’t a single person in the cafe. He warned us that the speed of the internet was very slow and we would have to be patient. And patience is not an option when your academic year is on stake. We refreshed my college page several times, but we couldn’t get past the home page. We were there for an hour and a half during which we told him my dilemma. Unfortunately, he told us that there weren’t any other internet cafes around and the internet speed was unlikely to improve. I had called my friend through his phone in the hopes of her completing the procedure from her home. But she didn’t answer the phone. Finally, we gave up the task, thanked the owner for his help and left the cafe in resignation. We were back in the main street of the Leh market. Vendors were sitting behind a spread of dry fruits, calling out to the tourists who walked past. It was July and the warm sunlight felt good in the chilly weather. We walked amongst languid travelers who appreciated everything they saw and brisk walking locals who hardly looked up as they got to their work. I was trailing my father who had spotted a bench. We sat down. I was upset thinking about the looming year ahead of me. “You know beta, you can treat this as a break year. Learn something new. Remember the water painting class that you wanted to join? And think of all the books you can read!” “Yes, maybe I can. But I will lose all my friends”. “Or you will make new friends and also know all the seniors. Think about it”, my father replied practically. “There is nothing we can do about it now. Maybe this would be a fortuitous opportunity to explore yourself.” I nodded my head without looking at him. I didn’t realize my father had disappeared until he came back with two orange candies. My favorite. My mood lifted immediately. We were heartily licking the candies, discussing our next destination for the trip when we saw a familiar figure decisively walking towards us. The blue woolly sweater confirmed my hunch, it was the internet cafe owner. He had spotted us from afar and was walking steadily. We met him half-way and he told us that my friend had called back and knowing the pickle I was in he had decided to look for us. I couldn’t believe it. A stranger had empathized with me and decided to help. I hurriedly called her back and she replied on the first ring. I walked her through the procedure, selected my subjects and it was done in five minutes. The magic of high-speed internet! Hanging up the phone, I was experiencing a mix of emotions - relief, happiness, gratitude, but the strongest of all was wonder. Wonder at the warmth and kindness of human hearts. The man standing in front of me had given me back a year of my life because he had chosen to be kind. My father promptly bought another round of candies to celebrate the accomplishment of our little mission. More than the towering mountains, flowing streams, or the two-humped camels, Ladakh would always remind me of the inherent kindness in human beings.