High in the upper reaches of Kinnaur, where snow-fed orchards cling to slopes and village roofs catch the last copper light, a quiet ceremony returns each year. Raulane does not announce itself with crowds or colour. It arrives in the pauses between seasons, when winter releases its grip and spring waits at the ridge. In Kalpa, Kothi, Sangla and neighbouring hamlets, people gather in courtyards, wrap themselves in heavy wool, and prepare for a ritual that locals say is older than memory itself.




