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Sikkim Trip – Part 5 (Finale): From Freezing Rooms to Questionable Life Choices

 We reached Lachung on what we proudly called a “budget trip”—and the budget clearly had the last laugh.

Our hotel looked like it had survived multiple centuries, possibly unchanged since the Stone Age. Ahmad and I ended up sharing a room—not out of bonding, but out of survival. The cold mountain wind had VIP access through the doors and windows, slicing through us like it had a personal grudge. At one point, I’m fairly sure the breeze knew our names.

The only saving grace? Hot water. That bathroom felt like a luxury spa compared to the rest of the setup.

Dinner, unfortunately, did not share the same standards. We ate just enough to stay alive and returned to our “heritage site” of a room. Ahmad, already regretting life choices, wanted to immediately check into a nearby 5-star hotel. I convinced him to stay—mostly because I didn’t want to repack in that cold.

Just when we thought the night couldn’t get more interesting, a young solo traveler (an engineer, philosopher, and part-time motivational speaker apparently) joined us in the room. He shared his life philosophy while we listened patiently… partly out of politeness, partly because it was too cold to move. It had been a while since we heard such confident immaturity—entertaining, to say the least.

Morning arrived like a blessing. Breakfast was surprisingly good—possibly because expectations were now at rock bottom. We headed to Zero Point, played in the snow like overgrown kids, made unnecessary noise, and then moved towards Nathang La.



At the base near the peak, things escalated quickly—rum, Maggi, snow, and questionable decisions. A perfect combination.

On the way back, I innovated: white rum mixed with water, discreetly stored in the car. Stealth mode: activated. We negotiated with another couple to give Ahmad a better seat (peace was restored), while I claimed the backseat—perfect for “view appreciation” with my secret setup. The front seat was taken, dignity was optional.


The rest of the drive to Gangtok was fast and quiet. By night, we reached—but Ahmad, in peak “I can drive forever” mode, decided we should push on towards Patna. Against all logic (and my advice), he started driving through the hills at night. No traffic. No locals. Just us, darkness, and one very determined driver.

The drive down from Gangtok to Siliguri started off calm—too calm. Mist slowly rolled in, wrapping the mountains like a suspense movie set. At one point, we were convinced the road ahead had simply vanished. Out of nowhere, we spotted what looked like a small roadside shack glowing faintly in the fog. Ahmad, in full explorer mode, slowed down as if we had discovered something historic. Turns out—it was just a tea stall with a man who looked more surprised to see us than we were to see him. We stopped, had the strongest chai of the trip, and for a brief moment, it felt like the mountains had paused just for us. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the fog cleared, reality returned, and Ahmad remembered he was in a race against time.

Hungry, fast, and slightly dramatic—we reached Siliguri in record time. That’s when reality finally tapped Ahmad on the shoulder: rest is a thing.

We checked into a proper hotel (finally), had a decent meal, and slept like civilized humans again. The next morning, we drove back home to Patna.

And just like that—our Sikkim trip ended.

One of the most uncomfortable, chaotic, hilarious, slightly irresponsible, and absolutely unforgettable drives of our lives.

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