Into the Thin Air Where the air thins, the silence thickens, and warmth becomes more valuable than gold. The first thing that struck me about Ladakh wasn’t the mountains. It wasn’t the monasteries, or the prayer flags, or even the endless, shifting blues of the sky. It was the air. Thin. Dry. Relentless. The kind of air that demanded respect…
Some trips are meticulously planned; their itineraries folded neatly into spreadsheets. Others arrive by accident, the kind of accidents that feel less like chance and more like quiet conspiracies of fate. My journey to The Lalit Laxmi Vilas Palace in Udaipur belonged to the latter. I wasn’t chasing grandeur. In fact, I was chasing the opposite. The purpose of the…
The ride into Pushkar that night felt endless. Rajasthan has a way of stretching both time and distance, highways glowing in fragments under truck lights, villages appearing and vanishing like mirages, desert winds carrying the faint scent of smoke and camel dust. I had been riding across Rajasthan all day, tracing roads that blurred into the horizon, chasing a destination…
The road from the Rann of Kutch felt endless, the kind of stretch that erodes ambition and measures you in kilometers rather than thoughts. We had set out that morning with Beawar as our destination a plan scribbled on a map, bold in daylight but fragile under the weight of the miles. Rajasthan’s distances are deceptive. On paper, a few…
The night before was chaos. Phuket, in all its neon excess, had swallowed me whole. Buckets of drinks that laughed at moderation, bars that blurred into each other, music that never dipped, and strangers who became friends for the span of a song. The air was thick with smoke and salt, and at some point, in the early hours, I…
