𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬 23 souls. The age group ranging from 24 years to 65 years old. Few were first timers. More than a few had done a number of high altitude expeditions. We were divided into 4 SUV's and proceeded to Janglik, our first base camp. Our trek leader and the guides gave us the outlook: The weather forecast was bad. If the rains persist, there would be no option but to turn back and return to Janglik. Praying for clear skies for the entire trip, I tucked into the sleeping bag. 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐: 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐆𝐨𝐝'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 Clear skies. Sunny day. The birds were chirping and all was happy. In the distance, we could see small slivers of snow on the peaks. The road was picturesque and scenic. From a few viewpoints, you could see small hamlets nestled in the valley. After around an hour's walk, a flat landing appeared giving an unobstructed view of the mountains ahead. The magnificent summits were so close to us that to see the top required us to tilt our heads backwards. This is something even if I tried to put into words or a picture, cannot do justice until seen with our own eyes. 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟑: 𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 Rainstorms. And thunder. When thunder strikes, we are usually cocooned between 4 walls. a nice warm blanket and cup of hot chocolate. Here in the mountains, we were in particular trying our best to keep the water out of our tents. The day started with the team taking the decision not to go ahead to the next camp due to the haphazard rain showers. So not much activity this day than just exploring the nearby hillocks. 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒: 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 ? The fellowship of Ponchos had disbanded. Half the group had decided to head back to Janglik. The other half to icy Morodor. Given the weather conditions, we were still in doubt if we would be able to reach the summit. The rains had made the landscape lush and green. And extremely muddy and slippery. The trail took us through the dark depths of dense pine forests and gushing streams. This was the last time we would be camping on a grass meadow before the summit, so I made best use of the day by being nicely wrapped up like a burrito. 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟓: 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 The skies were clear and we had the go ahead to proceed. The day started with crossing the Pabbar stream. After a short while, the green grasslands of Litham slowly receded and we got our first view of the Buran Pass. The trail slowly turned into a path of hard ice. Proceeding a few more hours of climb, we finally reached the alpine camp of Dhunda. Snow capped mountains flanked the camp on all the sides. Just an hour post we reached the camp, the weather took a turn for the worse. As we sat huddled in the dinner tent, with the howling wind and the hail pelting the sides, a singular thought ran through all our minds: It would be a real shame if we had to head back after coming this far. 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟔: 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 The skies had cleared. The window was open. Strapping the gaiters and fitting the spikes to the shoes, we assembled. Around half past two, we began the ascent in moonlight. Everything earlier to this point seemed like a cakewalk. The gradient was so high that it was impossible to climb straight ahead. Around five, we reached the summit. I made a quick call to parents: "𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑. 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍-𝟏𝟏 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃, 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑" In retrospect, that would have been a cool broadcast, but it went more along the lines of: "𝐻𝑖 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠. 𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑. 𝐶𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒" As we gazed down from the summit, we were soon asked to rappel down the 100 m ice wall. After the steep drop, we had to descend through a series of snow slides.Finally out of the snow line, we descended into nice lush green valley. After more than 12 hours of continuous ascent and descents, absolutely no energy left. Proceeded to pass out in the tent accordingly. 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝟳: 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 I had never been so happy to see green again. Like every other trek, there was a tinge of sadness on leaving this beautiful place. But at that point, I would have killed for a hot water bath and some change of clothes