A Winter Night’s Love

Ravi was on his third cup of chai that evening, huddled by the small, open fireplace in his family’s old stone cottage. Outside, the mountain town of Manali lay still, bathed in moonlight, each street corner covered in a pristine blanket of fresh snow. He could hear the faint sounds of holiday cheer wafting up from the distant marketplace, where vendors sold roasted chestnuts, fresh apples, and handmade woollen shawls to the few tourists braving the winter chill.

He hadn’t been back to Manali in nearly five years. His world now was in Delhi, where he worked as an investment analyst, living a life of constant deadlines and traffic snarls. But here, surrounded by his childhood home’s familiar smells of pinewood and burning embers, his heart felt like it could finally breathe. And tonight, he needed that peace more than ever.

Ravi sighed, his breath fogging in the chill of the room as he remembered his recent breakup. He’d been with Neha for two years, a relationship filled with promises and plans that had slowly unravelled under the weight of ambition and unmet expectations. Now, all those hopes seemed no more than scattered ashes. It was why he had come back here, to the mountains, seeking comfort in the silence of the hills, hoping they could somehow help him let go.

Unable to bear the quiet inside, Ravi wrapped a shawl around his shoulders and stepped out into the snow. The chilly air bit at his cheeks, but he welcomed it, allowing the fresh winter scent of pine and cedar to fill his lungs. The town was drowsy at this hour, most homes dark with only the occasional glimmer of a candle or a lamp in the windows. He walked aimlessly, his footsteps crunching over the snow-covered cobblestones as he made his way down towards the river.

The Beas River was one of his favorite places, a glacial river that sparkled in the moonlight and wound its way around Manali like a silvery ribbon. Tonight, the river looked ethereal, shrouded in mist, the full moon casting a haunting glow on the gentle ripples of water. Ravi leant against the old wooden railing on the riverside, letting the calm wash over him, when a soft voice broke the silence.

“Mind if I join you?”

Ravi turned, surprised. Standing besides him was a woman, bundled up in a thick, scarlet scarf that framed her face, her cheeks flushed from the cold. In her gloved hands, she held a steaming cup of chai too. She gave him a warm smile, her eyes curious yet gentle.

He hesitated, then smiled back. “Of course. It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

She nodded, taking a sip of her chai and leaning against the railing besides him. “It really is. The mountains have a way of making everything feel... magical.”

Ravi noticed that she was watching the river with a kind of quiet reverence, and he found himself intrigued by her. She seemed familiar with these surroundings, at ease with the silence and the cold, and he sensed a hidden story behind her calm gaze.

“I’m Ravi, by the way,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

“Meera,” she replied, smiling. “I grew up here. I’m a tour guide—Manali, Kasol, Shimla... I’ve been to nearly every place in these hills.”

Ravi felt a spark of curiosity. “That must be incredible. Showing people the beauty of these mountains every day... do you ever get tired of it?”

Meera chuckled softly, the sound warm against the chill of the night. “Not really. There’s a certain joy in seeing people fall in love with these hills. Each season brings its own magic, and each visitor sees something new. The mountains never reveal themselves all at once, you know.”

They fell into an easy conversation, sharing stories of winters past. Meera told him about her childhood here, the snowball fights with her friends, the trips to the hot springs nearby, and the time she got lost on a foggy trail only to be found by a friendly monk who led her back to safety. Ravi listened, feeling a quiet happiness growing within him, like he was rediscovering parts of his own childhood that he’d long forgotten.

After a while, Meera looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “What about you, Ravi? What brings you here in the middle of winter?”

Ravi hesitated. He didn’t usually share his personal life with strangers, but there was something about Meera that made him feel safe, as if she wouldn’t judge whatever he said.

"I... I just needed a break,” he admitted, looking down at his hands. “Life in Delhi can be intense. And I just went through a breakup, so... here I am. Trying to find myself again, I guess.”

Meera nodded, her gaze soft and understanding. “The mountains are a good place to do that. Sometimes, they help us let go of what we can’t hold onto anymore. They remind us of what truly matters.”

Her words hung in the air, like a balm for his wounded heart. They stood in silence, watching as a thin mist drifted across the river. Ravi’s heart felt lighter in her presence, as if some of the burdens he’d carried up from the city were beginning to melt away.

After a while, Meera glanced at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “How about a little adventure? I know a place where the view is amazing at night. It’s a short hike, if you’re up for it.”

Ravi’s heart leapt at the invitation. Without a second thought, he agreed, and soon they were making their way up a narrow, snowy trail leading away from the town. The path wound through tall deodar trees, their branches laden with fresh snow, and the only sounds were their breaths and the soft crunch of their footsteps.

They reached a small clearing at the top of the trail, where the whole valley stretched out before them. Manali lay below like a cluster of tiny lights, and above, the stars glittered in the dark, clear sky. Ravi had never seen anything like it; the beauty was humbling, almost sacred.

“This is my favorite spot,” Meera whispered, as if afraid to break the spell. “I come here when I need to clear my head. It’s like the mountains are telling you that everything will be alright.”

They stood side by side, sharing the silence, feeling the vastness of the world around them. Ravi looked at Meera, her face softly illuminated by the moonlight, and felt a strange, gentle warmth. He realized he’d come to Manali to escape his past, but in this moment, he was grateful for everything that had led him here.

“Thank you, Meera,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “For this… for everything.”

Meera turned to him, her eyes bright, her smile warm and knowing. “Sometimes, the mountains bring us to exactly where we need to be, Ravi. We just have to listen.”

And in that quiet, starlit moment, as the cold air nipped at their cheeks and the snow shimmered underfoot, Ravi felt a spark of hope reignite within him. The pain of his past began to fade, replaced by the gentle possibility of something new—a winter night’s love, wrapped in silence and moonlight.

As they made their way back down the snowy path, Ravi felt as if a weight had lifted. The mountains had given him the space to breathe, to let go, and maybe, just maybe, to love again.

(c) Vipin