Sunrise Madness at Tiger Hill, Darjeeling
The Fantasy
Sunday, September 28, 2025|
Seriously, getting up at 4AM and driving an hour for a sunrise should come with a warning: may cause delirium, chaos, and an unhealthy obsession with chairs. That was me in Darjeeling, imagining myself as a solitary mountain hermit, blankets snug, torch in hand, sipping my Darjeeling tea while the world quietly woke up around me. Picture-perfect solitude, right?
Reality Hits
Wrong. Dead wrong. Tiger Hill at sunrise is basically Piccadilly Circus with a crowd. The real thing isn’t even seeing the sun; it’s the mad dash to secure a chair at the “best spot,” which apparently everyone else also had their eye on. Tour buses spilled humans like popcorn, photographers wielded cameras bigger than my backpack, and there were loud conversations everywhere, plus a vendor selling steaming cups of chai as if we were at a street festival.
My tea went lukewarm, my huge scarf became my only comfort, and the torch? Totally useless against the glow of phones all pointed at the horizon (I forgot my phone has a torch)
Image: All I could capture on my iPhone were people taking pictures of the sunrise, or worse, watching it through someone else’s lens.
The Sunrise… Sort Of
And then it happened, the sun appeared. Like a switch, everyone stood up, focused, and started clicking away. And I, lost in the mist with my old iPhone, could only manage pictures of people taking pictures of the sun, or even better, watching the sunrise through someone else’s camera lens. Hilarious and slightly surreal.
Was I disappointed? Yes and no.
Yes, because the quiet moment I had built up in my head, me, my tea. The mountains vanished the second hundreds of people and selfie sticks entered the scene. I even wanted to meditate for a little while, but the only mantra I could hear was the shutters and chai vendors calling out. And no, because once I stopped sulking, it was genuinely funny. I came for solitude; instead, I got a front-row seat to human comedy. And the mountains? They didn’t care one bit. They rose and glowed anyway, stealing the show as if none of us even mattered.
Image: The second the sun appeared, everyone leapt up in unison all pointed east.
Image: One last stop on the way back, alone with a snowy mountain staring straight at me. No crowd, no noise, just magic.
The Best Part
For me, the real magic came later. Once the crowd melted away, Tiger Hill finally exhaled. Peace at last. I stood watching the mist drift, colours shift, and the landscape slowly reveal itself, as if the mountains had been waiting for everyone else to leave before putting on their best show.
And just when I thought it was over, my driver insisted on one more stop. I grumbled, but then there I was, completely alone, a snowy peak staring straight back at me. No elbows, no chai vendors, no selfie sticks, just me and the mountain, like the private audience I had imagined all along.
Final Thoughts
So yes! Tiger Hill is crowded, chaotic, and slightly absurd. But if you stick it out, you get the laugh, the madness, and eventually the silence. And that combination? Worth every 4 AM yawn.
Have you ever had a sunrise scramble turn unexpectedly magical? Share your story in the comments. I’d love to know I’m not the only one!
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