You take that one trip to mountains.
You pause. You breathe differently. Somewhere between the pine trees and the patchy network, a thought takes root: What if I just stayed?

If you are considering it seriously, good. But do not romanticize it.
Mountain life is beautiful, but it also demands more than it offers.

Let me tell you what that Instagram reel did not.

There are no flights. Emergencies are not convenient.

If something goes wrong - a health scare, a family emergency, even a sudden opportunity, it will take you time to get out. Buses are overnight. Roads are long. Cabs are expensive. There is no quick exit. And if you have elderly parents or health issues, this is not a small thing.

Winters are not poetic. They are punishing.

The cold is not cute. Pipes freeze. Taps burst. Roads close. Water runs dry.
If you think you will be sipping chai in the snow, remember you will first be shoveling it off your roof and checking if your inverter has enough charge to heat your chai.

Monsoons mean broken roads and no signal.

Landslides. Road closures. Fallen trees. Washed-out routes.
Even local buses pause sometimes. The network drops without warning. That important client call? Good luck. Planning a trip out? Add buffer days. The hills do not care about your schedule.

Power cuts are normal. Backup is survival.

Whether it is rain or unexpected snow, be ready for electricity to vanish.
It is still better than many places in the country, but repairs take time.
Sometimes it could be days. Inverters, solar, battery backups, you will need all of them.
And even then, you may be waiting it out with a candle in hand and your laptop dead.

You don’t “book” help. You build relationships.

There is no app for a plumber. Need an electrician? You ask someone who knows someone.
Mountain life runs on interpersonal trust, not platforms. You learn to talk to people, remember names, return favors. That is how things move here.

No, your favorite brand does not deliver here.

Forget same-day delivery. Forget half the products you are used to. No fancy milk. No almond flour. No air fryer part arriving tomorrow. You adjust to what is available locally. Or you carry it from the city, plan ahead, or simply do without.

Tourist season is noisy. Pick your spot carefully.

If your home is anywhere near the main market, you will hear everything. Engines revving, tourists shouting, music blaring from cars that do not belong here. You want peace? Stay a little farther out. And accept that isolation will be part of that choice.

It will feel lonely, unless you make an effort.

Friendships take time. Community takes trust. And in places that are used to tourists, most people assume you are just passing through. Expect transactional relationships at first until you show you are here to stay, not just consume.

Waste management is your responsibility. Literally.

There is no garbage truck. No segregation system.
If you generate waste, you deal with it. Compost, recycle, carry back, or face the guilt of burning or burying it. Most people do not. That is the sad truth. If you care, you will have to do better than the average.

Parking is a constant problem.

If you have a vehicle, be ready to circle for space. Or walk a steep hill to your home.
Many houses are not road-facing. Roads are narrow. Locals are frustrated by outsiders bringing more cars than sense. If you must drive, do it mindfully.

So, should you move?

Only if you are willing to unlearn.
Only if you are okay with inconvenience, slowness, fragility and still find beauty in it.
Do not come here chasing a fantasy. Come ready to live differently.

The mountains are not waiting to serve you.
But if you show up with respect, humility, and patience, they might just let you stay.