A blizzard, a lamp in a doorway, and a pujari who let a stranger in.

When the weather turned

For years, one of our co-founders has trekked the high paths of the Himalayas. On one of those walks the weather changed within an hour. Grey cloud swallowed the valley and then everything went white. A wind tore down from the ridge hard enough to steal his breath, and snow drove in sideways, burying the trail ahead faster than he could find it.

Through the whirling snow he caught a tiny glow of orange further down the slope. It was a diya, lit in the doorway of a stone temple barely larger than a village home, its slate roof already sagging under fresh snow.

Tea, rotis and a night of stories

The pujari asked no questions. He saw a half-frozen stranger knocking snow off his boots and simply drew him in beside the fire. Soon a steel glass of ginger tea was warming his hands, almost too hot to hold. Rotis came off the tawa with a bowl of dal, then blanket after blanket, and at last a heavy cotton quilt scented with woodsmoke and camphor.

The storm hammered the stone walls until morning, and by the fire the two men talked. The pujari described the temple his family had tended for generations, the festivals that still draw the whole valley up the hill, and the sadhus who meditate in caves higher on the mountain. All winter long he climbs to them with food, on tracks few would dare even in summer.

Pilgrims almost never make it here, he said with a smile. The buses stop at the famous shrines. Up here there is just the mountain, the temple bell, and whoever the snow happens to bring to the door.

A village that came running

Morning broke clear, and the snow-covered valley glittered. He started down the path, but only a short way on, the new snow slid off a hidden sheet of ice and he fell heavily. His injured leg could not hold him.

Before he could shout for help, the village was already on its way. One person hurried to fetch the pujari. An elderly woman heated mustard oil with turmeric and bound his leg in cloth. Young men shaped a walking stick from a deodar branch and took turns supporting him, one slow step after another, all the way to the road. Children raced ahead to sweep snow off the steepest bends, and at every turn a fresh pair of hands reached for his arm.

No one wanted anything back. When he reached for his wallet, they only laughed and folded a small packet of prasad into his palm.

Shrines the pilgrimage trail passes by

All the way home, that little temple stayed on his mind. In the months after, he went searching, and discovered there were many more like it. Scattered through the Himalayas are modest temples to Shiva and Parvati, to Vishnu, to Ram and Sita and to the gentle Devis of the mountains, each with a tradition centuries old, each cared for by a pujari and a village who expect nothing in return.

The usual pilgrimage routes never come near them. Their caretakers endure some of the harshest winters in the country, cut off by snow and living on very little, and they still carry food to the sadhus in the caves above.

So we built Aum Fe

Aum Fe is here to carry those temples to your home, and to repay a little of what their keepers give.

Our small team hikes far into the hills with a camera and settles in beside the altar. There the temple's own pujari performs your havan or puja, speaking your sankalp with your name and your gotra, your wish and your family's names, just as he would if you were seated next to him. When the mountain network holds we stream it live, and we always film the complete ritual so you have a video to keep. Dry prasad from the temple is packed that same day and sent to you by courier.

Each booking brings a Himalayan pujari and his village a fair and dependable income through the hard winter months, and lets them share a lifetime of devotion with families far away. Think of it as our way of paying back one glass of tea on a night of snow.

Why Aum Fe?

Our name joins two words from two worlds. Aum — written ॐ and also spoken as Om — is the ancient Sanskrit syllable that Hindu tradition holds as the sound at the heart of every prayer. Fe is the plain word for faith in Spanish and Portuguese. The East has Aum; the West speaks of faith. Aum Fe is where the two meet: a home for anyone, anywhere, who wants to take part in a havan or puja performed with devotion in the Himalayas.

For families living far from India

A great many of the families who book with us live overseas — in the UK, the Caribbean, Fiji, Mauritius, North America and further still. Some have never set eyes on the Himalayas. With Aum Fe, a grandmother in Port of Spain or a family in Leicester can hear their own names spoken at a mountain altar and watch the sacred flames climb against the snowy peaks.

Our promises to you

• Positive temples only: Shiva and Parvati, Vishnu, Ram and Sita, Krishna and the gentle Himalayan Devis. Never animal sacrifice, never dark or cult practices.
• Benefic rituals only. No fear, no curses, and never a warning that something bad will happen if you don't book.
• No promised outcomes. A havan is an offering and a prayer, never a guarantee.
• The temple, the pujari and his village receive a fair share of every booking.
• The price you see is the price you pay. If mountain weather holds up your video or prasad, we let you know on WhatsApp and by email.

On that snowy night, a stranger stood by our co-founder when he needed it most. Now we hope to stand by you, and by them.