A blog about Vibhav’s experiences at Moral Re-armament program at Pancghani, India
If you missed Part 1, read here – My Sojourn in Kolukkumalai (Part 1) – An Early Appointment With The Sun and Suicide Points Alam (our driver) was telling us about his daily life before we stopped at the suicide point. He was used to making three, sometimes four round trips to the Kolukkumalai factory. That isContinue reading “My Sojourn in Kolukkumalai (Part 2) – The Tea Factory, The Workers And Some Conversations”
“And that is the suicide point”, our driver said and allowed the jeep to splutter to a halt so that we could scramble out. A tall rock, smooth and majestic, which reminded me of the hacked torso of an unfortunate lone messenger who dared to carry a peace treaty to the enemy barracks, was theContinue reading “My Sojourn in Kolukkumalai (Part 1) – An Early Appointment With The Sun and Suicide Points”
I was taken by the brilliant salesmanship. Many people who would not bat an eyelid at a saint could be seen donating generously. I was impressed.
Title: Old Man and his Fish
Location: Gangasagar, West Bengal
Valley of Flowers – if you haven’t taken a look at the hyperlink, I’ll state the obvious, it is a valley of, guess what? Flowers!
But these aren’t just any flowers. At least not the ones you can order online for your mom’s birthday. They are flowers which are a part of the sacred Himalayan alpine vegetation.
Our friends at Unexpected Wanderlust has written an insightful piece on – Why Traveling is a privilege. Check it out!
I wanted to ask the inevitable, “but” or “so what happened?” But he sensed my hesitation and added “a week before our wedding, she realized, she didn’t love me anymore.” I gave him a quizzical look, because either he was taking me for a fool or this was some Bollywood romantic gone sour.
I don’t remember my childhood. Nothing except the smell of the monsoon rains, right before they lashed onto the verandah. Me, the solitary crawler, both enchanted and perplexed by a sudden downpour, would rush indoors to the safety of my mother’s lap. Such memories are vague, rather loosely etched on my mind. But the smellContinue reading “Petrichor- The Smell of Childhood”
Woods are enchanting.They are partially the reason for my fixation with mountains. While reading Enid Blyton’s The Enchanted Wood in my childhood, I had convinced myself that woods were magical. And somehow they held more of a sway over me, it seemed to be more potent than the magic of the toys which used toContinue reading “A Chance Encounter In McLeod Ganj And The Musings Of A Wandering Mind”
This is not about the goodbyes you bid to people as you hug and smile with the promise of meeting again. It is about those goodbyes which ring a bell of finality, of an end. Every time I visit a new place, I find myself taking an oath to return. Because I feel that IContinue reading “About Goodbyes And The Plight Of A Traveller”
My curiosity about Lithuania, was deeply connected to Thomas Harris’s works. I looked at it as the majestic country where Hannibal was born and which shared Hannibal’s fate of destruction at the hands of the Nazis. And like all booklovers, I would like nothing better than to go and visit the country of the anti-hero. SoContinue reading “Lithuania – My Visit To The Country Which Had Intrigued Me Since I Read Hannibal”
We try to tell ourselves that we are progressively moving from a predominantly patriarchal society to a more equanimous one. In this progressive society, women have equal opportunities of education and men cry when they want to. Sexism is a textbook concept, a reminder of an era that was. But are we actually that progressive?Continue reading “Getting Rid Of Sexist Ads Will Help Us Build An Equanimous Society.”
What is Love? Is it what makes us try a little harder everyday? Or what makes us give up everything to follow one person around? Is it what make us look out for one person or what makes us look for ourself? Let’s see what Anahita Fotedar has to say about Love in this guest post. We live inContinue reading “What Is Love?”
The homogeneity of big cities is nerve wrecking for me. The malls, all with different names, but same shops. The roads with different names, but same cars. The cities, with different names but populated by the formal banter of “excuse me” and the rudeness of honks. Tired of the daily gruel, I headed to VrindavanContinue reading “My Visit To Vrindavan Showed Me how Small Towns Retain Their Identity In The Face Of Globalisation”