A Cradle In The Clouds: Inside A Nepali Mom's 'Shop Of Dreams' In Himachal

High in the rugged embrace of Himachal Pradesh’s Lahaul Valley, where the Chandra River carves its path through snow-dusted peaks, Nirmala Khadka’s small shop clings to the mountainside on the trail to Sissu Waterfall. A modest tarp stretched over wooden poles, her shop is a beacon of warmth and sustenance for trekkers seeking the icy cascade known as Palden Lhamo Dhar.

At 10,500 feet, where the air is thin and the winds bite, Nirmala, a 25-year-old Nepali mother of two, is rewriting her story of resilience and survival. Her life, a delicate balance of grit and grace, is a testament to the unyielding spirit of women who carve out their own paths against all odds.

Nirmala’s shop, leased for Rs. 50,000 for the six-month tourist season from April to October, is a lifeline for her family. It sells simple fare—bottled water, steaming plates of Maggi, cold drinks, and siddu, a Himachali steamed bread stuffed with poppy seeds or lentils. The shop’s interior is sparse but functional, with a small gas stove and shelves stacked with essentials.

In one corner, a brightly coloured cloth sways gently, knotted at both ends to form a jhoola, a makeshift cradle where her two-year-old daughter, Himanshi, naps through the bustle of the day. “This is her little nest,” Nirmala says, her eyes softening as she glances at Himanshi. “She’s my shadow, always with me, even here in the mountains.”

Her six-year-old son, Hiyan, lives across the border in Nepal with his grandparents, a decision that weighs heavily on Nirmala’s heart. “I miss him every day,” she confesses, her voice catching. “But I want him to study, to have a chance at a better life. Here, I can earn for his school fees, for his future.”

The separation is a sacrifice, one of many Nirmala makes to keep her family afloat. Her husband works as a daily wager in a nearby village. Together, they navigate a life shaped by seasonal rhythms, economic precarity, and the relentless demands of survival in one of India’s most breathtaking yet unforgiving landscapes.

A Perilous Journey to a Mountain Livelihood

Getting to Nirmala’s shop is no small feat. The trail to Sissu Waterfall, a 1-2 km trek from Sissu village, requires crossing the Chandra River. Two years ago, a flash flood swept away the bridge that once connected the village to the waterfall’s base, says Nirmala, leaving the zipline as the primary means of crossing. 

For tourists, the zipline is a thrill, a 250-450 rupees per head adventure that offers sweeping views of the waterfall and the snow-clad peaks beyond.

For Nirmala and her husband, it’s a necessity, a daily commute that underscores the stark contrast between their struggle and the tourists’ leisure.

Nirmala straps a commercial LPG cylinder—weighing nearly 30 kilograms—onto her back and treks up the steep, rocky path to her shop. The cylinder, essential for cooking Maggi and siddu, is a burden she carries with quiet determination. “It’s heavy, but what choice do I have?” she says with a shrug, her calloused hands adjusting the straps. “If I don’t bring it, there’s no food to sell, and no money for my children. We face hardships in arranging two-time meals on our tables. Then there is inflation.”

The climb is treacherous, especially in the shoulder seasons when rain or early snow makes the path slippery. Wild animals lurk in the surrounding forests, and sudden storms can whip through the valley without warning. Yet Nirmala presses on, her resolve unshaken.

The shop itself is a temporary refuge, a place where Nirmala spends days and nights with her husband and daughter during the tourist season. Security is a constant concern. No locks can fully protect against the elements or wildlife, but Nirmala’s courage holds firm. “At night, I listen to the wind and the river,” she says. “Sometimes it’s scary, but I tell myself, ‘This is for my family.’ I can’t stop.”

A Seasonal Migration for Survival

When winter descends and Sissu’s temperatures plummet below zero, the waterfall freezes into a shimmering spectacle, but the tourist season ends. Nirmala and her husband then pack up their shop and migrate to Manali, 40 kilometres away, accessible via the Atal Tunnel, a marvel of engineering that has transformed connectivity in the region.

In Manali, they rent a small room, often no more than a concrete box, and work as daily wagers, both engaging in construction and agricultural work. Sometimes, Nirmala also cleans roads or helps at roadside dhabas. The savings from the shop’s earnings during the season are stretched thin to cover rent, food, and their needs.

“Winter is hard,” Nirmala admits, her hands clasping a cup of chai as she speaks. “In Manali, we’re just labourers, no shop, no control. But in Sissu, this shop is mine. I decide what to sell, how to smile at customers, and how to make them come back. That feels like freedom.” Her words carry a quiet pride, a recognition of her agency in a world that often denies women like her such power.

Sissu: A Jewel in Himachal’s Tourism Crown

Sissu, a quaint village in Lahaul Valley, has emerged as a must-visit destination for travellers seeking an offbeat escape from Manali’s crowded streets. Just 12 kilometres from the Atal Tunnel, Sissu offers a blend of natural splendour and adventure. 

The Sissu Waterfall, a sacred site for locals and a magnet for tourists, draws thousands each year, especially from May to October when the valley blooms with wildflowers and the Chandra River sparkles under the sun. Activities like ziplining, trekking to Ghepan Lake, and stargazing under unpolluted skies have made Sissu a haven for adventure seekers and nature lovers alike. Nearby attractions, such as the Shashur Monastery and Deepak Tal lake, add cultural and scenic depth to the region.

Himachal Pradesh’s tourism industry, a Rs. 25,000-crore juggernaut, thrives on such destinations. In 2024, the state welcomed over 1.8 crore domestic tourists and 83,000 foreign tourists, with Lahaul and Spiti districts seeing a surge in visitors thanks to improved connectivity via the Atal Tunnel. Yet, this boom comes with challenges—mounting garbage in pristine areas like Sissu and concerns over sustainable tourism practices.

For locals and migrants like Nirmala, tourism is both a boon and a burden, offering economic opportunities but demanding resilience in the face of environmental and social pressures.

A Nepali Woman’s Heart in Himachal’s Highlands

Nirmala’s journey began in a small village in Nepal’s Kohalpur, where dreams of a better life led her to India a few years ago. “Nepal is home, but it’s far away now,” she says, her gaze drifting to the snow-capped peaks. “Himachal has given me a new home. The tourists, they’re my family’s hope. Every bottle of water I sell, every plate of Maggi, it’s a step toward my children’s future.”

Her smile, warm and unwavering, belies the hardships she faces—separation from her son, the physical toll of her work, the uncertainty of life in a foreign land.

Her shop, though temporary, is a symbol of her empowerment. In a region where women often remain in the shadows of patriarchal norms, Nirmala’s entrepreneurial spirit stands out. She negotiates with suppliers, haggles over lease terms, and charms tourists with her warmth.

“Some customers come back just to talk,” she laughs. “They say, ‘Didi, your Maggi is the best!’ I think it’s the love I put in it.” Her confidence is hard-won, shaped by years of navigating a male-dominated world of trade and labour.

Nirmala defies societal constraints to claim her space, and her struggles resonate with the struggles of countless migrant women who leave their homes to build better lives, often at great personal cost. “I don’t think about being a woman or a man,” Nirmala says. “I think about my children, my shop, my work. That’s what makes me strong.”

A Mother’s Dreams Amid the Mountains

As the sun sets, Nirmala lights a small kerosene lamp in her shop. Himanshi stirs in her jhoola, and Nirmala hums a Nepali lullaby, a melody that carries memories of her homeland. “I want my children to grow up, maybe become a teacher or a doctor,” she says, her voice steady with conviction. “And my husband, I hope he’ll have a stable job where he doesn’t have to carry heavy loads like me. That’s why I’m here, why I keep going.”

Nirmala’s story is not just one of survival but of hope, resilience, and quiet rebellion. She is a woman who has turned a mountainside shack into a sanctuary of possibility, a Nepali migrant who has found a second home in Himachal’s highlands, and a mother whose love for her children fuels her every step.

In the shadow of Sissu’s waterfall, Nirmala Khadka stands tall, her shop a testament to the power of women who dare to dream amid the toughest odds.

Authored by Sumit Singh.