I visited Leh and Ladhak in 2015. I left little bits of me on the mountains, in the snow, in hotel rooms under blankets. But the bigger chunks linger in children’s school bag. In the man’s Salwar pocket with his Masters degree, that wasn’t much help in pulling sledges for tourists. He said “It does not work this way on this side of the world, madam.” His eyes gleamed when I told him of things from my world.
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I have visited Leh many times since, in Salman Rushdie’s words and Arundharti Roy’s books. Every time I go looking for the pieces, more slip out of me.

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