Ritisha Saha of class six, Epic Public School, shares her experience of a night in Darjeeling, where she travelled and was eager to witness the moonlit mountains. But instead discovers the enchanting dance of clouds in the dark October sky.
In October, when the air began to carry the first hints of winter, our school announced the much-anticipated Puja vacation. It was a time of year that always brought a sense of excitement, but this time, the thrill was doubled as my father managed to secure a few days off as well. Our destination was set—the lofty mountains of Darjeeling.
It was near the end of October when we finally arrived, and the chilly winds of Darjeeling greeted us as they brushed against my face, their coolness oddly comforting. The journey had been long and exhausting, yet here I was, seated on a pink comfy couch near the window of our hotel room, gazing out at the dark night sky in search of the moon.
I had heard many tales from friends and read countless books about the magical beauty of the moon when seen from the hills. They said if you were fortunate, you might catch a glimpse of the mountains in the moonlight, a beautiful sight that few forget. I was determined to witness this myself.
The walls of our room were painted a deep, calming shade of dark blue, and the dim lighting inside matched perfectly with the quiet, mysterious atmosphere outside. My parents and brother, worn out from the journey, had quickly surrendered to sleep, wrapped in the warm, furry blankets provided by the hotel. The blankets, though comforting, were not to my taste—I found their colour rather dull. Instead, I chose the familiar warmth of my grandmother’s old Kashmiri shawl, a treasured piece that my mother never forgets to bring along on any hill station trip. Its softness and history wrapped around me like a gentle hug.
That night, I decided to forego my usual spectacles. I wanted to experience the night in its raw, unfiltered form—to see the moon with my naked eyes. But as fate would have it, the sky had other plans. A sudden downpour began, the rain’s rhythmic tip-tap the only sound breaking the silence of the night.
My hopes of seeing the moon were gone, but as I looked closer, I noticed something equally beautiful—the white clouds, illuminated faintly by the hidden moon, were dancing across the dark sky. Their slow, graceful movements held me in awe, and a sense of contentment washed over me.
The memory of those dancing clouds would stay with me, a reminder that sometimes the beauty we seek isn’t found in grand spectacles but in the gentle, unexpected moments that life offers. And as I drifted off to sleep, the soft echoes of the rain became the lullaby that carried me into dreams of more such simple yet profound joys.
The next morning, as the first light of dawn touched the peaks outside, I knew that this trip to Darjeeling had already become one of the stories I would cherish forever. And though I would return home with tales of dancing clouds rather than moonlit mountains, I knew they would be no less enchanting.
While I didn’t get to see the moonlit mountains as I had hoped, I was grateful for the experience that night brought. I could hardly wait to return home and tell my friends about the dancing clouds I had witnessed on that quiet October night in Darjeeling. So here I am sharing this experience with you all.
