It’s been a week since I returned from my Kailash Manasarovar Yatra. Since then, I have been in a reflecting mode, silently connecting the dots backward and forward, trying to absorb and soak it all in. Now, as I pen my experience down, I ask myself, where did it begin, what truly took me to Kailash?

Last October 2024 brought the most challenging wave of my life, the unfortunate death of my father, moving cities, leaving work, losing significant relationships at work and among friends, taking a career break, and witnessing the first wave of an empty nest as our elder son left for university and the younger began packing his bags. Life felt like a barren land, with no ray of hope, no breath of relief.

I turned inward and asked, Kyon, why, why all together, like a chain, and what was it meant to be? I have always believed that destiny walks two steps ahead of us. At the same time, there is a universal plan continuously unfolding, invisible to us. I was wanting to see that plan. A close friend said to me, “Whatever may happen, don’t leave your sadhana,” He had gifted me Inner Engineering in 2023, and those practices became my anchor.

The path within

My daily meditation kept me going. In silence every morning, I began to feel the spiral of difficult times slowly unfolding. Amid chaos, a deep calmness emerged. I poured more time and energy into my practices. The intensity of connecting with my inner self deepened. I began to feel as though my soul itself was speaking back to me.

Yet, two things kept bothering me,

1. Every evening between 6–7 pm, I felt the urge to speak with Papa, that was our time every day,
2. I could not connect with him, not even in my dreams, while everyone else at home spoke of him appearing in theirs.

One day, during meditation, an image flashed before me, Papa moving through life, family, and business with unwavering faith in God. He never missed a day of visiting his chosen temples, and nothing could shake that routine. A true devotee of Shiva and Devi, his faith was unshakable. He had introduced me, early in life, to two habits that shaped me, morning walks and visits to the temple.

It’s true, what we seek is seeking us. In my inward search to read the patterns of the universe’s plan, I was pulled into sacred journeys not planned in my mind but written in my fate.

First came Kumbh in January 2025, vast, overwhelming, yet deeply moving. While many complained of rush and struggle, I had the best time. I can still feel the cold water of the Sangam washing my tears away.

Next came Kashi in April, timeless and still. It is said that Kashi is the door to heaven, and I experienced it in full, a boat ride through a sandstorm, followed by the most powerful aarti on the Ganges.

Ultimately, I manifested Kailash in September. While the kids were climbing Kang Yatse 1 & 2 in Leh during August, I let go of my mountaineer’s urge to take on a high-altitude technical hike, instead I chose a silent, solo yatra to Kailash. Was it for my soul, or for Papa? I was yet to discover. All I knew, as a mountaineer, is this, you never climb a mountain, the mountain is you, the true climb is inward.

The Gita, Chapter 18, Verse 73, says, “Human will is not at odds with the divine will, human will is founded and fulfilled in the divine will.”

Devotion in Motion

If Kailash is the most significant of all pilgrimages, then I knew I had to prepare, physically and spiritually. I increased my weight training and running, while also deepening my Shambhavi practice. I became mindful of food, sleep, and thoughts. More importantly, I let go of all expectations. I turned into a blank sheet of paper, ready for Kailash to write upon me, ready for its knowledge, its mystery.

As the yatra date approached, I grew numb. This was my first solo journey, without connectivity, among people I did not know. On 30th August, I boarded a flight from Delhi to Kathmandu. Arriving at 2 pm, I spent the next 48 hours in Satsang and temple visits, soaking in the divine presence of fellow yatris. None of them felt like strangers. In a fraction of seconds, we became Isha Foundation family.

Seventy-plus co-yatris felt familiar, as if drawn from my past. Some felt like sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts. I remembered reading that we meet thousands of people in our lifetime, but only 60–70 stay close, and finally, just 6–7 become our deepest circle. These 70-plus yatris brought back memories of all the close associations of my life. It felt karmic, as if we were destined to walk this Kailash path together. We began traveling across beautiful lands, towns, and mountains, nature offering us new perspectives and angles. A new dimension was waiting to unfold.

During Satsang, we learnt the significance of Kailash and Manasarovar. We learnt that a yatra is not a trip, it is letting go. It demands that you leave behind part of yourself, surrender something of your old self, and step beyond boundaries, that is where transformation begins. Silence, devotion, chanting, good company, and learning to balance both householder and sanyasi life, these were the practices shaping our journey.

And I was fully soaked in it. For once, I wasn’t thinking of home, family, or even my children. I gave myself entirely to Shambu, letting him take over my senses and every breath.

In that stillness, I became acutely conscious of half my life gone by, studies, marriage, kids, work, home. And I asked, what should the next half be? The answer that arose was clear, deepen my experiences, sharpen my intention to dissolve into devotion, and keep walking inward. Stagnation means decay. The yatra was not about reaching answers. It was a continuous inward journey, where the only way is forward.

Bridges over Boundaries
On 1st September, we moved from Kathmandu to Nyalam, a small town just after crossing the Nepal-China border. Here we completed the immigration process, which took hours of queuing. Once across the border, the difference was visible immediately, the roads, infrastructure, and natural beauty all striking. Straight roads, surrounded by mountains, lush green plateaus, waterfalls, and valleys. We went on acclimatization walks to feel the town.

On the 2nd day, we moved deeper into China, reaching Saga, a military town also known as ‘Happy Land,’ at an altitude of 15,750 feet where the air was thin. Walking through the town kept our lungs engaged. The view of the Brahmaputra River coming from Kailash was breathtaking. The monastery and prayer wheels exuded calm, and my heart felt filled with joy. The people welcomed us with their eyes and gestures. Despite language barriers, we found ways to connect, share laughter, and communicate.

Throughout the journey, a few constants remained, guru pooja, satsang, medical checks, practices, and intense meditation sessions, along with moments of volunteering. This volunteering was soulful, the moments of connection enriching the journey. What mattered was not our backgrounds, but how we fed our souls through these practices, unlocking the power of the yatra. Indeed, more than the destination, it is the journey and companions that shape it.

The Holy Lake, Manasarovar and the Sacred Cleansing

On the fourth day, via Zhongba, we moved towards Manasarovar. On the way, Burang revealed the first glimpse of Kailash, its south face snow-capped, the large lake in front breathtaking. I could not stop my tears. Standing there, I felt called, as if the yatra had chosen me, not the other way around. With closed eyes for a fraction of a second, I realized I was not there to seek, I was called to witness my past and glimpse what my future could be.

We reached Manasarovar on the 5th day evening, did Satsang, and checked into our sleeping pods. The mystical lake, and its stories unfolded. Twenty kilometers from Kailash, it is believed to house the Kapavriksha, the wish-fulfilling divine tree. This lake is considered the source of all creation. It is a place of offerings, a space between humans and another dimension of life. The night sky was full of stars, galaxies visible in the clear air. Gazing upward, I knew that regardless of my wishes, my path was set. For a moment, solitude struck me, then I realized a spiritual journey of the soul must always be walked alone.

The next day, early morning, we prepared for meditation and practices by the lake. The sky was grey, we donned raincoats, sat, and began invocation. We chanted Shambu for hours, lost track of time. Cold and shivering vanished, replaced by stillness and deep connection. The rain began, blessing those wishing to take a dip in Mansarovar Lake. Just before the end, I felt someone releasing my hand, a loose grip, as if letting go of something deep within. Was it Papa? This filled my soul, a sign of the lake’s mystery.

On our return, we visited Chiu Gompa Monastery at Ngari. From the top, Rakshas Tal was visible, said to have been created to deceive Ravan by Maa Gauri. The panoramic view, Mansarovar on one side, Rakshas Tal on the other, Kailash in between, moved me deeply.

In the afternoon, we moved to Darchen, a quaint town at the base of Mount Kailash, our stop for the night. Meditation, practices, and satsang prepared us for letting go, releasing anger, old patterns, habits, worries, and our former selves. Each step on Kailash is sacred; it is said we walk on Shiva’s body during the Parikrama. Chanting Shiv Shambu allows Shiva to become our third limb, consciously and unconsciously transforming us. That evening, silence prevailed, anticipation grew for the Parikrama, the challenging and rewarding trail ahead.

The Parikrama, Walking Around the Sacred Mountain

The next day, we moved from Darchen to Yamadwar, the door of the god of death, gateway to salvation and the heavenly abode of Lord Shiva. I paused, absorbing the beauty, the blue sky, snow-capped mountains, flowing river, and green grass. A stranger advised me to take three rounds around Yamadwar before beginning the Parikrama. Crossing Yamadwar, I felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted, a current of energy pulling me forward. Every step, every pause, was a chant, each cell echoing Shambu. The trail offered dramatic shifts, sunny skies, hailstorms, rain, clear skies, and finally a rainbow waiting at Kailash.

Our stop was Dirapuk, at the north face of Kailash, where we planned to stay three days and two nights, fortunately during Poornima and a lunar eclipse. On the way, volunteering allowed connection with divine souls. The mountains, rivers, and first sight of Kailash brought tears, a surrendering of the self, a manifestation of fate. I felt this was where I belonged, where I brought Papa, where Shiva invited us. A place significant across religions, where all paths converge to one God and universal power.

Dirapuk’s dormitory offered a view of Kailash and the full moon. Dinner and medical tents were lively as everyone prepared to witness the lunar eclipse. The moonlight view of Kailash was beyond any lens’s capture. I imprinted this scene in my heart, mind, and soul. Rain eventually returned us to our domes.

Early the next morning, we began practices and invocation in front of Kailash. Hours of chanting, deep immersion in divine grace, blessed with clear weather, filled me with tears. I felt a tight grip on my hand, the opposite of Mansarovar’s letting go. Was it Shiva holding my hand? A small pebble shaped like Kailash appeared before me, a sign, now worshipped as a shivaling in our temple.

I walked to the stream from Kailash, submerging pictures, letters, and my father’s image. As a daughter I couldn’t submerge his ashes in Haridwar as that right was reserved for my brother. But here my gender doesn’t matter as the right to let Papa go from my side was mine. I whispered, “Bye Papa. I miss you. You will always live in me.” The epiphany struck, this was what brought me to Kailash. Papa, a devotee of Shiva, came through me, guided by his lessons on sadhana and devotion. From Kumbh to Kashi to Kailash, each step, each sacred place, part of a divine plan, threaded by faith. Grief transformed into gratitude.

The Return, A New Beginning

We returned to camp, gazing at Kailash, knowing time is never enough. Later, walking to Dirapuk Monastery in the rain, the view of Kailash from above was breathtaking, a rainbow painting the sky. Wandering back, I lost my way but returned happily, embracing the colors, the rain, the moonlight, all sacred.

The next morning, our journey back to Darchen began, cold at -2 degrees. The trail to Yamadwar revealed new perspectives, rivers shifting sides, views evolving. Every step under the blue sky and freezing wind was taken with gratitude.

The journey back revealed inner changes, shedding old skin, emerging renewed. Calm, empathy, devotion, spirituality filled me, while physical tiredness and emotional fatigue faded. Dedication, resilience, determination, self-discovery were tested, and the sojourn kept my energy at its peak.

At Yamadwar, I lingered longer, clicking pictures of everyone who completed the journey safely. Spending four to five hours there was one of the most memorable moments. I painted the scene in my notebook, capturing colors and essence to carry home, adorning my reading corner with Shambu’s grace.

On departure, I took a last glimpse of Yamadwar and Kailash. Kailash was not visible, yet I felt it in my heart. The Kailash yatra revealed itself as a calling, an invitation, a surrender. It demands leaving behind comforts, stepping beyond boundaries, embracing inward and outward transformation. Silence teaches, chanting awakens, balance emerges, and God is seen in everything. Return from Darchen to Saga to Nyalam to Nepal, same route felt new. Even the same streets and city felt vibrant and alive, as if seen through a fresh lens. The same route gave a rare opportunity to revisit familiar places with a renewed mind.

Coming home felt like a new birth. In the past week, I have noticed subtle yet profound changes within myself. My physical stamina has improved, my water intake has become more conscious, and the urge to connect inwardly has grown stronger, making my morning and evening sadhana a natural rhythm. My mind feels calmer, more present, and my heart lighter, carrying no emotion other than happiness and gratitude. Patience replaces restlessness, clarity replaces confusion, and a deep acceptance of life as it unfolds has taken root. Even mundane moments feel sacred, and the simple act of breathing carries a sense of awe. I feel more attuned to the patterns of life, more compassionate in my interactions, and more aligned with my true self. This yatra has not only been a journey to Kailash but a journey back to myself, leaving me renewed, centered, and quietly yet powerfully transformed. Experiencing the journey both ways—with anticipation and with reflection—has been a rare gift, revealing that every path, every step, and every pause holds its own magic and insight.

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Kailash is not just a mountain; it is a mirror reflecting the deepest corners of your soul. Its presence lingers long after the journey ends, reminding you that the path inward is endless, sacred, and transformative. Every glance, every step, every breath there carries a lesson in surrender, devotion, and living fully. Kailash stays within you, guiding, inspiring, and quietly calling you to keep walking the path of your life with faith, courage, and love. It teaches you that the journey is endless, inward and onward. To honor it, I must keep walking, surrendering, becoming, melting, flowing. He will stand with me, guiding me. I already want to go back again. All I have to do is my sadhana, and the rest will follow. He will call me again.