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…
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…