HE WEATHER APP had predicted a gloomy day with hints of a thunderstorm, yet by some sleight of hand, it was turning out to be a bright and cheery one. My sister and I lay sprawled on the soft grass of the Sharchi meadows, lush from the recent monsoon rains. Behind us, towering conifers dotted the slopes of the mountains that stood high and mighty like sentinels of this kingdom. Wooden houses were sprinkled around, some peeking surreptitiously from the woods, others standing meekly in the shadows of the mountains. In front of us unfolded a panorama unlike any other. The valley of Tirthan lay below with its eponymous river, a silvery thread of life. Guarding it on all sides stood the majestic Pir Panjals—the largest of the Lesser Himalayan ranges. As if on cue, to complete the idyllic setting, a flock of sheep
