A trek through the forgotten hills of Gurugram

Accessible, calm and surprisingly close  

Accessible from Delhi by metro and a short cab ride, the Aravalli Hills near Tikli village in Gurugram reveal forest trails, quiet ponds and rocky hills unexpected natural escape within the Delhi NCR region.

Most people like to begin their New Year with something that they deeply love or something that they would like to do more often in the year ahead. For me, trekking had long been the way I welcomed the New Year, with calm, movement and distance from noise. However, this routine had been broken for the past two years due to responsibilities of life. But in 2026, I again decided to begin the year with a trek and return to something that once felt like home.

On the morning of New Year, while most of the world was still asleep after celebrating new beginnings, I woke up at 05:00 and saw that outside my window, the sky was still dark and heavy, wrapped in winter fog. Delhi mornings in January carry a strange stillness, cold air, silent roads and a sky that looks unsure whether it wants to wake up or not. I got ready quietly, knowing I had a long journey ahead. The assembly point in Gurugram was nearly two hours away from my place.

Also Read: Kashmir’s Snow Trails: A Guide to the Best Winter Treks

At 07:30 when I reached the meeting point, about 40 others, complete strangers, stood there. Different faces, different stories, different lives. We had never met before and would probably never meet again, yet for the next few hours, we were going to walk the same path. The fog was still low and the air was cold enough to make hands numb. Some people looked sleepy, some excited, some unsure of what they had signed up for.

The trek leaders distributed light snacks and explained the do’s and don’ts. Their voices cut through the cold morning air. Soon after, we started walking. It felt strange walking with people whose names I didn’t know, whose lives I had never seen. But the hills don’t ask for introductions. They only ask you to walk.

It had been two years since I had last gone on a trek. Back in Kashmir, trekking was a part of my life. I used to go almost every week. Those treks were tough steep climbs, unpredictable weather, long stretches of silence broken only by wind and water. Compared to those, this trek was easy. Beginner-friendly, they said. Some people around me started complaining early on, saying it didn’t feel beginner-friendly at all. I smiled quietly. For me, this was nothing. The body remembers mountains, even when life pulls you away from them.

We were told that we would see two lakes and an old dam. That thought stayed with me as we climbed. The path rose gently, the ground uneven but manageable. The sky above was cloudy and the fog moved slowly, as if it was walking with us. A cold wind brushed against my face, carrying the smell of damp earth and dry leaves.

Also Read: Challenging Himalayan Treks for the adventurous soul

After a while, we reached a flatter stretch. The climb ended and the path opened into a plain trail. People began talking introducing themselves, sharing what they did for a living. Almost everyone spoke about work. Busy schedules, deadlines, stress, exhaustion. Life, it seemed, had become heavy for all of them.

As the group moved forward, the path crossed lives very different from ours. Local women passed by quietly, their shoes torn, clothes worn thin by time and labour. Heavy bundles of firewood rested on their heads, bending their backs, yet their faces carried calm smiles. Their lives looked unimaginably hard, far harder than anything we were walking away from for a day. That sight stayed with me. It made me look inward. God has given me so much, yet I complain so easily. Around me, people continued talking about stress, deadlines, and exhausting jobs that pay their bills, support their families and fulfil long-held dreams. Still, dissatisfaction followed them into the hills.

Walking beside those women, something shifted inside me. Their quiet strength and acceptance made my own worries feel smaller, almost insignificant. It was as if the hills were gently reminding me of perspective.

Then, without warning, the digital noise disappeared. My phone stopped buzzing no calls, no messages, no notifications. When I checked, there was no network. Instead of panic, a strange sense of relief settled in. For the first time in a long while, the morning was not shaped by a screen.

I slipped the phone back into my bag and looked around properly at the trees, the fog drifting slowly between them, the wind brushing past my face. In that moment, disconnection felt like freedom and the walk began to feel lighter, more real.

Also Read: Top 5 monsoon treks of Maharashtra for adventure seekers

Small trees lined the path. Dry leaves crunched under our feet. Suddenly, I noticed a cactus. It was the first time I had ever seen one in real life. I wanted to touch it, feel its texture, but we were told to stay together as a group, so I just looked at it as we passed by.

Soon, I began to hear the sound of water soft, continuous, calming. The group leader smiled and announced that we had reached our first destination. A lake.

It was beautiful. More than beautiful, it was unexpected. Our group was the first to arrive and for a moment, I just stood there, stunned. I had never imagined that a place like this could exist so close to Delhi. Large stones surrounded the water, and the lake reflected the grey sky above. People immediately started clicking pictures and making videos. I moved away quietly, stepping carefully across the stones, looking for a place to sit.

I found one stone that felt right and sat down. The view from there was peaceful. Fog floated gently over the water. The wind was cold but refreshing. The group leader asked us to do forest bathing, is a Japanese mindfulness practice of slowly immersing oneself in a forest environment to promote relaxation, for five minutes to stay silent, breathe and just exist.

Those five minutes changed something in me. No noise. No phone. No notifications . Just nature.

I closed my eyes and felt myself again. I realised this was what I had been searching for since I moved to Delhi. I hadn’t felt this kind of calm in a long time. In Kashmir, moments like this came easily. Here, they felt rare and precious. That silence, that stillness it wrapped around me like home.

Also Read: Gurez Valley: Trekkers’ untouched haven in Kashmir

We eventually moved on to the second lake. As we walked, conversations continued. I started asking people why they chose to come on a trek on New Year’s Day. I don’t know why I asked, maybe I was just curious. Everyone had a different answer. Some wanted peace. Some wanted a break. Some didn’t want to party.

We spotted peacocks along the way, walking freely, unbothered by our presence. The road was plain, surrounded by trees and for a moment, it felt like we were far away from cities and schedules. When we reached the second lake, we stayed only for a couple of minutes. It was surrounded by trees, like a hidden pond in the middle of a forest. Quiet. Still. Beautiful. I wanted to touch the water, to feel it, but we were told not to.

By noon, after nearly four hours of walking, we reached our final destination the dam. It didn’t move me the way the lakes did, but I was tired and rest felt good. We ate snacks, took pictures and began our journey back.

The return walk was quieter. People were tired. At one point, we lost our way. With no network, there was no coordination. We just walked, trusting instinct and each other. Eventually, we reached an exit that led through a temple connected to the Aravalli Hills. Everyone removed their shoes and climbed the stairs. We rested there, breathing heavily, bodies tired but minds light.

I had started the year walking with strangers. I ended it feeling closer to myself. That trek was not just about hills or lakes. It was about silence, reflection and remembering who I was before life became noisy. And somewhere in the foggy hills, a part of Kashmir walked with me.