We are dropped off at our hotel located at the base of Gulmarg's only gondola.
Like most of the handful of other hotels in the village the rooms provide for life's basic necessities, there is occasionally warm water, electric blankets, and an almost tangible interaction with rhesus monkeys as they clamber by the thin and single glass windows.

That night in the hotel's empty dining room we discuss our options over a daring plate of chicken tikka masala and a can of 'Godfather' brew that was secretly smuggled into Gulmarg by our driver a few hours earlier.
According to the online weather maps, no snow would be falling in the near future, but local sources show more positivity. “Snow will come. In sha'Allah (if Allah wills).” said Mushtaq, a local ski guide earlier that day.

It seemed that with the collective of locals praying snow would surely arrive. With our faith instilled in Allah we awake to a white Indian canvas, yet it seems as if He is just buying time to organize a storm of epic proportions which we are now so eagerly awaiting.