Looking back at a year of living and travelling across Europe - II
To travel to a place is to simply see the rabbit being pulled out of the magician’s hat and applaud. To live in a place is to lift the magician’s hat and find the hole that runs through the table under it.
Looking back at a year of living and travelling across Europe - I
We kept walking however, further and further until we reached a part of the campsite that was very likely frequented by cult worshippers on full moon nights.
Nagaland: A lesson in war and love
I have never been a mountain person. I have never been a beach person either. Eventually, one beautiful sight makes way for another. I am however a people person.
Nagaland: The man from Hornbill festival
Something about him struck in me instantly an acute nostalgia. It was his voice, I realized, he sounded just like my late grandfather I last heard when I was twelve.
Little-known Spain: Correfoc
The monstrous creatures that appear in a Correfoc are also peculiar to the town where it is held, a fail-proof strategy to localize children’s nightmares.
Shooting landscapes - II
Our brains are wired to like certain patterns and themes more than others. And thus, when these patterns and themes are applied to photographs, we are drawn to them like Kim Jong-un to missiles.
Shooting landscapes - I
At the heart of all great travel photographs, lies a very simple idea – use natural light when it is at its best.
Cooling Down In Velas
What does it feel to be reckless and stupid? There was only one way to find out, it headed straight down the river. So I did what the reckless and stupid would do. I jumped.
Un-holi in Uttar Pradesh - II
It was not the first time I let instinct override logic, certainly not the last. I knew I could trust, that was my absolute truth in that moment, not that I could be wrong, but that I could trust.
Un-holi in Uttar Pradesh - I
I had stepped out twice, onto the dirt road outside the station absolved of all light, to smell liquor on the male-only crowd, and for them to smell fear on me, and come back.
Catching the surf in Pondicherry
I continued to sink, the orb that was the sun growing paler, the water calmer. Then at one point, in one brilliant speck of a second, we froze – the water and I.
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Kolhapur - Tracing kushti's origin
It was a terrible piece of advice, I must say, for away offered no different a sight. Fifty odd men, all hiding their masculinity in itsy-bitsy pockets—langots—swarmed our view.
The story of mardani khel
Uncovering the history of an Indian martial art form called mardani khel...
A whale of a time
In a strange way, it was both humbling and inspiring to watch that stunning orgy of flesh, fat and force hurl itself into the air from the mouth of the ocean with unbelievable grace.
The music of Hampi
I looked at Harsha as she played the djembe like a woman possessed, moments away from conjuring spirits of her forefathers. She looked at me as I sang, my face contorted like I was being administered an enema. Then we looked away, terrified.
Pune: colours of Ganpati visarjan
And then I saw a glimpse, of saffron silk flags dancing in the skies as their bearers danced to the beats of the dhol-tasha, their energy rippling through the crowd. A hundred cameras flashed above the sea of heads.
Anegundi - The Ramayana trail
I am not sure if my health insurance covers hernia,” I said as I launched a fresh bout of kicks in an attempt to start our rented moped.
Rupin Pass Diaries - Day 1
There he was, talking to me like we were long lost friends, seeking solace in the fact that his life, however mundane to him, was extraordinary to me...