Darbadar, a word of Farsi-Urdu origin, means door-to-door, a word we think best describes the essence of a traveler, an identity we take on sporadically.

When we do haul our backpacks, we travel hard and ugly. We don’t mind hitchhiking on trucks or sleeping on sheets with suspicious stains. Those things, we feel, are lesser sacrifices in view of what we are usually after.

A massive, delectable slice of life. Acidic and pungent and sweet and hot. Drips down the sides of your mouth onto your clothes. Messy but so good that you keep digging until your fork scrapes the china.

By design our stomachs are always empty.

From surfing with dolphins in Pondicherry to falling asleep to the sight of the Milky Way in the Himalayas in Kashmir, these are our stories.