We took the bus and got down at the start of Rohtang pass.
The wind was chill, and the weather was harsh.
We were four kilometers above sea level, and the lack of oxygen made us breathe harder.
Clouds were flowing a few meters above our heads, and the white snow seemed never to end.
In an instant, the bus disappeared and left us with nothing but silence.
Every direction was a piece of art as if someone painted it to be perfect.
Hidden inside the art was the terror of nature.
The more we enjoyed it, the fiercer it seemed to get.
While we were busy enjoying the Himalayas, a person in army dress appeared out of nowhere. We had a little chat with him, and he told us that there was an army camp after a few kilometers into the pass. “It is insane to think of even staying there for a day, and the army has camped here?” I asked myself, and maybe sacrifice of such people is the reason that I can dream to have a prosperous life.