Powdered Snow & a Red Goodbye

With winter just beginning to loosen its silver grip on the hills, we packed our bags for a brief escape to Shimla. This wasn’t just any trip. This was the last road trip in our bright Red Jeep, our loyal companion, therapist, silent witness to couple-fights-that-weren’t-really-fights, and midnight playlists.

Saying goodbye to a car may sound excessive to some people. To those people I say: "you have clearly never owned a Red Jeep”.

We had exactly two days. Two. Which meant this was not going to be a “let’s conquer all tourist spots” kind of trip. No. This was going to be a “let’s pretend we are royalty” kind of trip. Torn between two iconic properties, Taj Theog Resort & Spa and Wildflower Hall, we did what any emotionally stable, financially questionable couple would do.

We booked both.

The drive to Theog was cinematic enough to deserve background violins. Snow clung delicately to the edges of the road, mountains stood around us like calm, judgement-free elders, and the world looked like it had been dusted with powdered sugar. Snow has that unfair advantage, it turns everyone into a child. You could be sixteen or ninety, but show someone fresh snow and suddenly they’re squealing, and taking 42 photos of the same spot.

When we arrived at Taj Theog, rose petals and steaming tea welcomed us like we had just returned from war. There is something about the Taj name, it doesn’t just promise luxury; it whispers, “Relax, darling, we’ve got this.” Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the mountains so beautifully that I briefly considered not leaving the room at all and simply staring at the view like a very well-dressed philosopher.

But adventure and hunger called. We explored the property with the enthusiasm of influencers without a collaboration. At the bar, overlooking a snow-dusted backyard, we ordered hot toddies. And naturally, we documented the moment. Because if it isn’t photographed from three angles, did it even happen?

Lunch was a full-blown event. The sun filtered through the peaks, its rays warming my face before the food even reached the table. A traditional Himachali thali later, I felt deliciously drowsy, full not just of food, but of light. 

Naturally, after walking 8,000 steps (which I tracked aggressively to justify dessert later), we booked a spa session. By sunset, I was so calm I’m fairly certain my brain had switched to airplane mode. Dinner at the Patiala Room was all about candlelight, mountains, and suddenly I felt like I was speaking in italics.

Before saying goodbye to Taj Theog Resort & Spa, we saved the most dramatic experience for last, a private picnic set against mountains that clearly understood their role as our personal backdrop. The second I saw that open meadow, I transformed into the overenthusiastic heroine of a Yash Raj Films love story. I ran with arms wide open, and committed fully to the fantasy. Soon enough, we retired to our charming little tent where we played Ludo like competitive royalty. Meanwhile, our attendant kept the indulgence flowing, appetizers appearing, followed by hot coffee and brownies that tasted suspiciously better at altitude. It was luxury without the loudness, and just indulgent enough to make us believe for a brief, delusional moment, that the world had been rented exclusively for us.

Soon our bags stared at us from the corner like, “Can we leave now”? And our journey started to the next destination.

Wildflower Hall greeted us with old-world elegance. If Taj felt modern and expansive, Wildflower felt like it might casually host British nobility at any moment. Wooden floors creaked softly, corridors seemed to hold secrets, and the Card Room looked like it was waiting for someone to say, “Shall we?” in a British accent. The staff greeted us with a warmth that felt genuine rather than rehearsed. 

Luxury here didn’t feel flashy. It felt inherited. Like it had been sitting gracefully for decades, waiting for us to arrive. We spent the day strolling across manicured lawns, sipping hot coffee with snow-clad mountains as our backdrop. 

The evening closed with their iconic Chocolate Mudpie, indulgent, elegant, and impossible to rush. Room service is, quite frankly, one of civilization’s finest achievements. The sheer luxury of picking up a phone, pressing a single button, and having a sinful, perfectly plated dessert arrive at your doorstep feels almost unfair to the outside world.

Wildflower is the kind of place that makes leaving feel mildly tragic, until the bill arrives and gently escorts you back to reality.

As we finally drove back home, the hills slowly faded behind us. The engine hummed along the winding roads, steady and familiar. In the rearview mirror, the red gleam of our Jeep caught the light one last time. I could swear it was smiling.

And just like that, the trip ended, and a chapter quietly closed. We weren’t just saying goodbye to a season. We were saying goodbye to a car that carried our stories, and honestly, did a fantastic job of it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have 350 photos to sort through.