Amit Paul Chapter 1: The Snowlight Frame The sky above Spiti was a cruel, beautiful thing—too blue to trust. Arjun Rawat had been walking for hours, boots crunching softly over a thin crust of ice, camera slung across his chest like a talisman. He wasn’t just another tourist in search of selfies on mountain ridges; he was chasing something quieter, something lost. Delhi had drained him—clients who wanted glamour edits, weddings that looked like Bollywood trailers, and a personal life reduced to text message apologies. So when his friend mentioned a forgotten shepherd’s trail between Kaza and Chandratal that locals…