SISSU(Lahaul-Spiti):
Even as waist-deep snow cut off the world from Lahaul, the valley lit up—quite literally—with the age-old glow of Halda, the most sacred winter festival of the tribal region.
Amid a relentless spell of snowfall that buried villages under more than four feet of snow and snapped road links, power supply and mobile connectivity, residents stepped out with flaming wooden torches to welcome a new agricultural year.
From Sissu and Sashin village—the seat of Raja Gepan—to the Chandra Valley, and further across Patan, Taud and other pockets of the valley, Halda was celebrated in its purest, most traditional form. With the Atal Tunnel blocked, electricity snapped and the valley plunged into darkness, villagers relied on fire and faith.
Local resident Himal Singh Thakur said this year’s Halda was exceptionally special.
“Never in recent memory has Halda been celebrated when the entire valley was buried under such a thick blanket of snow. There was no power, no roads, no outside contact—only fire, community and belief,” he said.
As evening descended, men, women and children emerged from their snow-covered homes holding locally made wooden torches.
These torches were then gathered at common village spaces and lit together, creating a roaring bonfire against the frozen Himalayan night.
The crackling flames, reflected on snow walls and silent peaks, turned the harsh winter into a moment of collective warmth.
Halda, traditionally celebrated after the winter solstice, marks the symbolic end of the old year and the beginning of a new season.
The festival is deeply rooted in nature worship. Villagers offer their torches to the local deity, praying for peace, prosperity, good crops, healthy livestock and the overall welfare of the valley.
Elders say this year’s celebrations carried added meaning. The heavy snowfall arrived unusually late, raising concerns for agriculture and water cycles
. The arrival of snow just before Halda is seen as auspicious—an assurance of soil moisture, healthy pastures and ecological balance in the months ahead.
Despite the biting cold and isolation, the spirit of Halda remained unbroken. Songs, traditional greetings and quiet prayers echoed through snow-laden hamlets, reminding everyone that in Lahaul, festivals are not cancelled by weather—they are defined by it.
As flames danced in the freezing air, Halda once again proved why it is more than a festival: it is Lahaul’s declaration of hope, even when the valley lies buried in snow.
