I never did make it to Mauritius. Despite an any-time invite by my architect friend, Soutrik Das, who lived and worked there for many years. The closest I got to seeing the island was through his amazing artwork. Of which, I would like to give you all a sneak-peek here. For a more up close and personal look, you may want to visit the Experimental Art Gallery at the India Habitat Centre, New Delhi. For those who survive the imminent end of the world, he will be showing solo between 23rd-30th December, 2012.

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Chappar Chiri, a few kilometres from Mohali, has a special place in Sikh history. It was here that Banda Singh Bahadur, one of the most respected Sikh warriors, won a decisive battle against Wazir Khan, commander of the Mughal army.

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Earlier this year, on a brief visit to Manali, I took out a day to trudge up to the Jogini Falls with a group of guests at the Himalayan. I say trudge, because  to call it a trek would do the real McCoy a huge disservice.  It can take anything between 45 minutes to an hour to walk through Vashishth village, and up through a wooded (mostly) path to get to the falls. Able-bodied sorts can make it in less  without breaking a sweat. Read more »

An invite by its management to visit and review Casba, a B&B offering farm-stay experiences on the outskirts of Mohali, found me breakfasting on piping hot paranthas and tea in the manicured lawns of an evidently spanking new building replete with modern amenities; while uniformed staff waited around. Read more »

This is the last post for the 30-day Alive Is Awesome campaign I was invited to participate in; to share the incredible bathing adventures I experienced while on the road.  I had no idea that a cleansing routine could make such good copy. Till the new-look Cinthol came along, that is!

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Yet, there was a time when–despite growing up on a farm in the dusty plains of Punjab–jumping into a tube-well was the very epitome of adventure. Forbidden to the young ladies (read eight & nine-year-olds) of the house, for the sake of safety and propriety, it was nonetheless the very cynosure of their artless and flawed intrigues towards that end.

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While my definitive bathing adventure, as defined by Cinthol’s Alive Is Awesome TV campaign, has yet to transpire, the closest I ever came to it was on a visit to the Sangla Valley late one summer. After a considerable climb up the mountainside from the camp at the edge of the Baspa River through an alpine forest, a friend and I emerged at the liquefying extremity of a massive glacial entity.

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