Oshin’ Ladakh Thrillophilia Review: Of Friendship and Stars
Some journeys are planned over months. Ours was planned over mehendi and laughter.
It was my best friend, Yamini’s, wedding in three weeks, and one night, after a long session of outfit trials, Yamini suddenly got up on the bed and said, “Girls, I need one last adventure before I get married.”
We all looked at each other, and without missing a beat, I said, “Ladakh?”
We all froze for a second and then burst out laughing.
And we actually took the trip- a short, sweet, and high-altitude bachelorette. Thanks to Thrillophilia, it was even better than we imagined.
We packed years of memories from those few days.
The Road to Turtuk
We landed at the Leh Airport and checked into our cosy hotel. After resting for some time, we headed to explore the Leh markets. There, we shopped for Tibetan handicrafts and some woollen clothes for the trip ahead. The next day we went to see some of the monasteries nearby since we had to acclimate for two days before going anywhere far.
On the third day, we went to Nubra Valley to start our Ladakh adventure. When we woke up the next day, we were already surrounded by sand dunes and distant snow-capped peaks. The air had a stillness that felt sacred. After a warm breakfast at our camp, we hopped into our vehicle to head towards Turtuk, which is the last Indian village before the Pakistan border.
The drive itself was a feast for the eyes. Unlike the desert landscape of Ladakh, Turtuk was full of greenery. Apple orchards and apricot trees lined the narrow, winding paths that were surrounded by high, barren mountains. The scenery was simply jaw-dropping.
As we reached Turtuk, we were greeted by kind locals and curious kids waving at us. We walked through the cobbled lanes, tried dried apricots, and giggled like schoolgirls every time one of us tripped over a loose stone.
We met a kind old man who offered us butter tea and spoke about the village’s Balti culture. “This land has changed hands, but the soul stays the same,” he said with a smile that stayed with us.
By sunset, we were back at our camp in Nubra, where we were sitting around a small fire, wrapped in shawls and watching the sky full of stars.
“I feel like we are characters in a storybook,” Yamini whispered.
“Yeah,” I said, looking up, “and this chapter is the first one.”
Stars, Sacrifice, and Silence in Hanle
The next day, we were off to Hanle, which is one of the remotest villages in Ladakh. As we packed up from Pangong, I had no idea the day would leave such a deep impression.
On the way, we stopped at the Rezang La War Memorial. Standing there, we were surrounded by tombs and silence, and the wind howled the memories of the martyrs into our ears. We read about the bravery of the Indian soldiers who fought in the 1962 Indo-China war, which gave me goosebumps. We bowed our heads in quiet respect.
The road to Hanle was wild and open. Sometimes we would not see another soul for miles, just wild horses and the occasional prayer flag fluttering bravely in the wind.
Reaching there felt like arriving at the edge of the world.
The air was thinner, but the sky was full of stars.
At night, we visited the Indian Astronomical Observatory. There was something surreal about being in one of the highest observatories in the world. We listened to a soft-spoken scientist tell us about constellations and galaxies as we peered through a telescope.
The experience was quite humbling, and we did not speak much after that. We did not need to. The stars were talking for all of us.
Back at our guesthouse, Yamini softly said, "If I ever forget how tiny yet significant we are, remind me of tonight."
The Return to Leh
Leaving Hanle was quiet, as none of us were ready.
We began the journey back to Leh. Our vehicle moved slowly through the raw landscapes of Chumathang Valley. It was as if the earth had softened here with green meadows, lazy rivers, and occasional steaming hot springs.
We stopped at one such spring and dipped our hands in.
Yamini laughed, “It is like nature’s spa!”
I sat quietly and watched the steam rise and swirl around us. The moment was warm, both literally and emotionally.
We reached Leh by evening and checked into our cosy and comforting hotel. As we checked in and flopped onto the beds, Nandini said, “Guys, I feel like we have lived a lifetime in just a few days.”
Later that night, while sipping on hot kahwa, Yamini said, “Guys, thank you for this trip. I needed this silence more than I knew.”
Nandini smiled and added, “Let’s promise, no matter how far life takes us, we take little pauses like this again.”
And just like that, a new pact was made.
The Things You Cannot Pack
Ladakh gave us things we never expected.
It gave us friendships without filters. When you share altitude sickness, hot Maggi, and silent stargazing, you connect differently.
It gave us stories of bravery, simplicity, and the kind of beauty that does not try hard to impress.
And most of all, it gave us moments where we felt completely present.
As we gathered at Yamini’s home a couple of days later, I looked at Yamini and Nandini and said, “Same chai table next week?”
Nandini smiled. “Sure, but this time, we bring the stories back with us.”
Yamini hugged us both. “And next time, I will bring my husband too.”
And we all laughed.
Read More: Thrillophilia Ladakh Reviews