“If you ever write about this, name it The Search For A Perfect Thangka,” says Norbu, my guide, and displays his pearly whites in a smile. “Very funny, but I will consider it,” I respond, “and you can be my editor for the article!” After driving me around for almost two hours in a near-deserted
The crisp morning Himalayan air whips through my hair. I look out at the first glow of sunrise from my hotel balcony. I have been coming to Rishikesh every year and the stay at Divine Ganga Cottage is becoming a norm. I particularly love the fact that, in this hotel, I find the quiet and
In Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound”. It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards and forwards, it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. ~ Don Draper This is the
In a bylane of Banaras, we went to witness the age-old tradition that is still kept alive in these parts of the country – an akhara. The traditional wrestling format imbibes the spirit of guru-shishya traditions. In the early hours of the morning, seeing these athletes in action was an experience like never before.
Varanasi celebrates Dev Diwali – Diwali of the Gods, which takes place 15 days after the usual Diwali festival on the full moon day. Morning sees the devotees swarm the riverbank to take a dip in the holy river and as the sun sets, the ghats are lit up with a million tiny lamps to honour the
Kashi, or Varanasi/Banaras as it is known today, is the oldest continually inhabited city in the world. The history of the place is writ amongst its charming ghats to its maze-like by-lanes. Life here is bodacious, vivid and gives you a sense as old as time itself. The Ghats This place is an important site
I anxiously look out from the passenger seat of the white Tata Indica cab as it tries to meander through the semi-blocked narrow strip of the road. Jai, my guide, chips in once again; he has been talking all morning, “it’s the landslide season ma’am”. I smile and nod at him through the rear-view glass
There is a sea of pilgrims at Jammu’s small railway station. I am travelling with my aunt and grandparents and the only way to travel is the 32-hours train ride to Calcutta. We wait among the Victorian wooden pillars and arches. Wafting aromas of cinnamon and tea leaves fill the air from the little tea