Akshardham or Swami Narayan Temple in NewDelhi, India

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The Golden Temple, Amritsar, India

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The Lotus Temple, Bahai's House of Worship, Delhi

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Baga Beach, Goa, India

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Vivekananda Memorial, Kanyakumari, India

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Andaman and Nicobar Islands, India

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Auroville Ashram, Puducherry (Pondy), India

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Kerala house Boat, Munnar/Wayanad/Kumarakom, India

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Lakes of Nainital, India

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House Boat at Dal Lake, Srinagar, Kashmir, India

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Taj Mahal, Agra, India

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Hawa Mahal(Palace of Breeze), Jaipur, India

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Gateway of India, Mumbai, India

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Chennai / Madras, India

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Information Technology Park, Bangalore, India

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Charminar, Hyderabad, India

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Vidyasagar Setu, Kolkata, India

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A Trip to Ladakh Village

When we were planning our trip to Ladakh, what drew us to the idea of doing a homestay was the simple yet powerful concept behind it. The Snow Leopard Conservancy encourages and trains local families to welcome tourists into their houses for a very nominal fee. The money thus collected serves as an additional income for the local people. This additional income not only increases the communities’ stake in protecting wildlife, but also offsets the losses that these villagers incur due to livestock depredation by snow leopards.
Completely sold on a homestay, we managed to combine it with our two-day trek in the Rumbak Valley. Although a relatively easy trek, the altitude and the intense heat made it an arduous task. One normally does not associate heat with the mountains, but Ladakh being a cold desert, experiences extreme weather conditions.


The trek itself was a gradual climb and our path was along a river, which apart from providing a picturesque backdrop was a welcome relief from the heat. The first signs of the village were fields that gradually grew in size as we climbed further up. Our first and much needed pit stop was at this little shop that had a white canvas stretched across a pole to cover a small wall that was the enclosure. It was a struggle to get ourselves up as we did have to walk a little more to reach the village we were staying in.

The village was nothing but a collection of a few brick houses, spread out, overlooking the fields. It had a deserted look, as most people were out in the fields. Once inside a narrow corridor opens into a big room that housed the kitchen and the common area where the family have their meals and watch TV. Ladakhi kitchens are very interesting and maybe the one distinct characteristic that distinguishes their homes from any other. They have a variety of brass and steel vessels that are all displayed. The prosperity of the family is judged by their kitchen and the number of vessels on display. The lady of the house made us some gur chai or the traditional Ladakhi butter tea. It’s made of butter and is salty, almost like a soup, but it keeps the body warm and is a great source of energy.



Completely sold on a homestay, we managed to combine it with our two-day trek in the Rumbak Valley. Although a relatively easy trek, the altitude and the intense heat made it an arduous task. One normally does not associate heat with the mountains, but Ladakh being a cold desert, experiences extreme weather conditions.

The trek itself was a gradual climb and our path was along a river, which apart from providing a picturesque backdrop was a welcome relief from the heat. The first signs of the village were fields that gradually grew in size as we climbed further up. Our first and much needed pit stop was at this little shop that had a white canvas stretched across a pole to cover a small wall that was the enclosure. It was a struggle to get ourselves up as we did have to walk a little more to reach the village we were staying in.

The village was nothing but a collection of a few brick houses, spread out, overlooking the fields. It had a deserted look, as most people were out in the fields. Once inside a narrow corridor opens into a big room that housed the kitchen and the common area where the family have their meals and watch TV. Ladakhi kitchens are very interesting and maybe the one distinct characteristic that distinguishes their homes from any other. They have a variety of brass and steel vessels that are all displayed. The prosperity of the family is judged by their kitchen and the number of vessels on display. The lady of the house made us some gur chai or the traditional Ladakhi butter tea. It’s made of butter and is salty, almost like a soup, but it keeps the body warm and is a great source of energy.

Kashmir Beauty, Srinagar travel


When I landed at Srinagar airport, I expected to find the place crawling with security personnel considering it is known to be a sensitive zone and have a tense environment. But much to my delight I was totally wrong. It was bustling with tourists and extremely helpful ground staff. The crisp air and golden sunshine outside was exhilarating. Wide roads, open grounds with towering trees meet my eye as I drive along the Dal Lake en route to the hotel. Rows of houseboats anchored on the lake beckon visitors as also the beautifully decorated shikaras (boats) with their brilliant coloured seats. The distant mountains surrounding the valley are perfectly mirrored in the ever so still waters of the lake. Now I see the huge fort which is said to have been built by Mughal emperor Akbar atop the hill, Hari Parbat. I detour onto the winding driveway of the only heritage hotel in the city, the Lalit Grand Palace. This was earlier the palace of the Kashmir Maharaja Hari Singh and called Gulab Bhawan. However, the palace, sprawling across nearly 50 acres strategically placed in one of the city’s best sites on the slope of a hill, was turned into a hotel with its 112 rooms and 59 luxurious palace suites. Leaving my bags in one of its spacious heritage rooms, I step out into the front garden overlooking the lake. The view is spectacular. The lush green lawn hemmed in by rows of red dahlias bobbing their heads in the breeze, the magnificent chinar trees with the hills partly covered in green deodars and chinars.

Autumn leaves drift by my window, the autumn leaves of red and gold… The lines of the once popular Nat King Cole number come to my mind as I eat the delicious Kashmiri dishes like dum aloo, hacque saag, raajma and saffron-flavoured rice followed by almond saffron phirni and finally the aromatic steaming kahwa. Srinagar is a very large city I discovered. I am lucky to have a Kashmiri friend Hashmat Ullah Khan to drive me to the famous Mughal Gardens, the Nishat Bagh with its terraced lawns and fountains and the Shalimar Bagh that was built by Mughal emperor Jehangir for his wife Noor Jehan, also set in sprawling grounds with terraced lawns and a central water channel. Hashmat takes me through the meandering lanes of the old city to a shawl weaver’s house near Safa Kadal. Inside, the weaving loom is set up in an immaculately clean room, where the weavers are busy with their wooden spindles called kani briskly making a kani shawl. I look down at an exquisite, colourfully designed part of the shawl that has been completed. It can take a year or more to make one of the famous kani shawls, Hashmat says. The next day I drive up the hill skirting the botanical gardens to the Chasme Shahi, a natural water spring set amidst a terraced garden. I scoop up the water in my palms and drink. The crystal clear water tastes divine, especially after the hot climb. A side road from here and a drive higher up the hill takes one to Pari Mahal built by Shah Jahan’s son in the 17th century. The place that once housed a library has a fabulous view of the Dal Lake and the city below. After a day long outing it’s great to be back in the Lalit Grand Palace. The Darbar Hall, used as a dining area, is part of the old palace complex that is built on springs and is therefore earthquake proof. The palace has its old secrets and is said to have secret tunnels to the grounds outside. They have neither been explored and no one knows the exact route… As I leave the place, I promise myself that I will return soon.

Charm of Agra

Just when the sun god decided to give north India some respite from his onslaught, I decided to visit the mecca of romance and see the Taj for myself. I guess somewhere I was hoping that maybe the late Shah Jahan’s romantic act would inspire my husband into building a small home for me but alas! Agra, located in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, is about 200 km from Delhi and offers a plethora of travel options. While it takes less than an hour to reach Agra by air (from Delhi), travelling on the popular Shatabdi train is perhaps the most convenient, inexpensive and fascinating way to reach the destination. And thus my journey aboard the comfy Shatabdi, with hot tea and a sumptuous breakfast kickstarted my sojourn. As we reached Agra, we proceeded to see the marvel of love and the epitome of beauty. And as the Taj unfolded in front of our eyes, its sheer beauty and grandeur took our breath away. Let’s just say, the feeling cannot be truly described and is best left for you to experience. All I can say is that the Taj Mahal, the 17th century mausoleum, resting on the banks of the river Yamuna, which stands as a reminder of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan’s intense love for his beauteous wife Mumtaz Mahal, is a must see. Having feasted our eyes on the Taj, we headed to our next destination — the Agra Fort. Built by the Mughal emperor Akbar in 1565 A.D., this huge fort narrates tales of bravery, of its triumphs and victories over its rivals and its reigning years during the Mughal era. Having visited history, it was now time to satiate the hunger pangs growling in our stomachs. Since Agra plays host to a large number of foreign tourists, the destination has a horde of eating options ranging from plush five-star joints to ordinary dhabas. We ate our fill of traditional Mughlai gosht at a decent outlet and went on with our Agra tour. Since we had a return ticket that very evening, we could not go to see Akbar’s tomb at Sikandra or visit the city of victory Fatehpur Sikri, which is also a Unesco World Heritage Site. Nevertheless, we did have time to shop at the bazaar and pick the popular peetha to take with us back home. If your partner is indulgent, you can also try on the famous jutties (shoes), buy some bags, look at the bamboo saris and miniature marble Taj Mahals to carry back as souvenirs. On our way back to Delhi, the yearning for a longer visit to this marvellous city kept me occupied and I have to admit that another trip is on my agenda sometime soon.

Yercaud - An Unusual holiday


Most of the tourists is that they are always looking for something to do. A holiday, to them, is like an expedition. They arm themselves with maps and brochures, survey the geography, imbibe the history, and return with a suitcase full of souvenirs and undeveloped film rolls. There are the adventure tourists who’re always climbing rocks, rafting rivers, and trekking like there’s no tomorrow. Little wonder, then, that if you recommend Yercaud to a vacationer, he’ll reply: “Oh, but there’s nothing to do, there.”

Nothing to do. Isn’t that the point? If you’re looking for the biggest, the tallest, the greatest, the oldest, don’t go to Yercaud. If you’re looking for a tourist spot that’s hot and happening, if you’re seeking an unspoilt verdant paradise, if you want (oh, Heaven help us) an educational experience, stop reading. The holiday I’m about to describe should be taken annually, off-season, with large doses of sloth and solitude.

Yercaud is a hill station near Salem , Tamil Nadu, and India in the Servarayan range.Try going to Yercaud in winter. This recommendation would not go down well with most tourists who throng to the hills in summer and the plains in winter. They are the sort who will never eat ice-cream in cold weather. Who will never ever violate that cardinal sin in the holy book of tourism: travelling without “advance booking”. Reservations must be made for stay as well as for travel, up and down.

When we drove to Yercaud, therefore, last winter, without a road map, and without booking a thing, it was with a feeling that we had flouted many an unwritten regulation. When we hit Salem we asked sundry helpful citizens “Yercaud yengay?” and simply followed the hand signs till we reached the road that led up to the ghats. Making our way up the gently ascending road that cut its way through the forest, we saw hordes of greedy monkeys waiting for freebies. Around nearly every bend was a parked motorbike and a young couple seated on a ledge, lost to the world. With good omens such as these, what could go wrong? We entered Yercaud and stopped at the main junction, which was devoid of hustle and bustle. All pairs of eyes (about 28 of them) were on us as we bought glasses of milky, over-sweet tea from a vendor, and as the chill breeze crossed the lake to fan our faces, it dawned on us that we were probably the only strangers in town! Finding a hotel took roughly half an hour, since it involved knocking two out of three choices off the list. One hotel was under renovation, while another, overlooking a cliff, had prices that were equally steep. Both places appeared totally deserted.

Back to the lake we went, and into the government-owned Hotel Tamil Nadu. No cars were parked outside, and all was quiet within. Perfect. So was the off-season tariff: Rs. 300 for a double room and Rs. 500 for “deluxe, with TV”. The rooms were clean and basic. Those who expect room heating, plush carpets, bathtub, and a complimentary fruit basket have no business coming to this hotel. Here, you get open shelves instead of a wardrobe, white plastic chairs, and a bathroom with a tiny cake of medicinal soap besides a wash-basin the size of a large saucer. Our room had a balcony that gave us a tree-kissed view of the lake.

All this loose talk about lakes must have you wondering: Is it anything like Ooty Lake? Remember, Yercaud plays handmaiden to Queen Ooty, and its “Big Lake” is no match for its famous counterpart. There is a walled-off “Little Lake” as well, in the market, next to Montfort School (where Nagesh Kukunoor shot his film “Rockford” set in a boys’ boarding school). If Ooty has the Botanical Gardens, Yercaud has a humble Rose Garden. For a two-rupee fee, you can get a long-distance view of a fenced-in patch of rose shrubs, and then wander around the rose-less expanse of the garden. There is a modest grove of pine and citrus — but this is no time for a botany lesson. The botanically inclined could take a stiff walk up to the Horticultural Research Station. The man in charge took the entrance fee from us, waved a hand vaguely to his left and said in Tamil, “There are the fly-catching plants.” He waved to the right and said, “There are the plants for sale.” And then he left us strictly alone. Under “Endangered Species” was a Pitcher Plant that we managed to take pictures of through the iron bars of its cage. We wandered amid orchids, ferns, and succulents, crawled halfway into a small cave, and took in the view from atop large rocks. I idly wondered where the Kurinchi was: on the ghat road we had spotted a sign that announced: “Yercaud — land of the Kurinchi flower”. Since we didn’t get to see any, I hereby confer on Yercaud a new title: “land of the poinsettia”. So many of its small houses have gardens aflame with scarlet bracts.

This destination has little to offer the inveterate sightseer. There is a rough map on the wall of the hotel’s reception area that indicates Ladies Seat, Gents Seat, Kiliyur Waterfall, Cauvery Peak, and so on, and you could dutifully cover a certain number of spots per day. A more adventurous method would be to simply explore each road radiating from the main junction or branching off into narrow arteries, and you’ll be bound to hit the same spots, more or less.

We found that the Seats (both Ladies and Gents) were vantage points. Cauvery Peak sounded exciting. Was it a peak from where you could see the Cauvery river? With this in mind we negotiated the pothole-ridden Loop Road, driving past endless coffee plantations. A sudden shroud of mist slipped onto the hill slopes, and the landscape turned into a dream. So what if Cauvery Peak turned out to be just the name of a private plantation? Mist has this quality of turning the mundane into the magical. The waterfall proved elusive. The road stopped beside a well and a log blocked the way. On the wall of the well was a yellow arrow and “To Waterfall”. A sign also announced in stern block capitals: “No alo car & byk”, so we hoofed it. We took a narrow trail downhill, hoping to hear at least a faint murmur of water in the all-pervading stillness. No luck, but the trek through the secluded woods was worth it.

Along one of the public parks was a road we hadn’t taken. An arrow indicating Pagoda Point tempted us, and we followed directions until we ended up on a plateau of sorts strewn with dozens of Tamil Nadu Housing Board dwellings. Not a single house was occupied, and many of the glass panes were broken. The road led past this disastrous project to a dead end, where stood a small temple on a cliff. We bought corn-on-the-cob from a forlorn seller of “American popcorn” and settled down on one of the cement benches. The view was spectacular although a blue haze obscured the distant hills. On a clear day you can see Mettur dam, said a lone bystander. We didn’t bother to ask why Pagoda Point was so named; three stacks of stones piled in the rough shape of pagodas gave us an indication.

During our four-day stay the weather kept displaying slight nuances. The sun would take an ad hoc decision to work full time, or part time, or to take the day off entirely. But whether it was sunny, cloudy or misty, whether it was windy or still, it would be crisply chill during the day and so cold at night that we would have to worm our way under the blankets of the beds that were “made up” western-style. The warm water served in the hotel restaurant was a real comfort. We had all our meals there for lack of choice but we weren’t complaining. The food was basic but tasty, and the cold gave us enormous appetites.

Yercaud isn’t shopper’s heaven. If you wanted to encourage the local economy, you could buy coffee, pepper, honey or cinnamon. Or else you could visit the family-run perfumeries for a range of not just perfumes but health and beauty-care products made with natural ingredients. Do not be alarmed by bottles named “Black Panther Oil” and “White Panther Oil”: no animals were shot in the making of these medicinal balms.

Yercaud doesn’t exactly have a swinging nightlife; public parks close at 5 p.m. and boating on the lake by 6 p.m.

After our evening walk we would ensconce our well-wrapped bodies in chairs on the balcony and look out over the serene lake. After dinner, we’d be back to more of the same. The watchman of the boathouse would burn eucalyptus twigs to keep off the cold, and the mist would turn the streetlights into yellow fuzz. Only a dog’s faint bark or the occasional musical air-horn of a lorry at the junction would break the tranquillity.

Just ourselves, and the stars for company.

Royal tracks of India

They say they’re going to put us on a train. They’re going to give us wine glasses and panoramic windows to peer through together. And controls to fix our room temperature. And lush beds to go with lush countryside. And cushions of every variety so we can mix and match them for comfort, or toss them aside and admire the mosaic on their cover. We’d better. They’re going to charge us a bomb.

Today, the Orient Express, “the train against which all other luxury trains are measured” according to Vanity Fair, has reached its destinational metaphor. The Indian government’s permission to private companies to charter trains and organise extravagant tours has led to an explosion in the local luxury train market. “We were just waiting for the permission to enter the market”, say the representatives of international travel companies Cox & Kings, Thomas Cook and The Luxury Trains unanimously, all of whom are loath to disclose details of their projected profit margins and costs. “This sector was waiting to happen”. It was. And now that it has, many palaces are ready to roll on rail tracks.

The Deccan Odyssey, Royal Rajasthan on Wheels, The Golden Chariot and, of course, the Palace on Wheels (which probably has genuinely antique decor by now) are known names. Next on tracks will be The Indian Maharaja (November 18, 2009) and Maharaja Express (January 2010) launched by rival companies Thomas Cook and Cox & Kings respectively, with prices touching Rs 1,00,000 a night — and more.

While The Indian Maharaja is the Deccan Odyssey on a different route, Maharaja Express is a joint venture between Cox & Kings and the Indian Railway Catering and Tourism Corporation Limited (a public sector concern). Later into 2010 will roll out Incredible India — Punjab Luxury Train and Splendour Of The South. For a nation whose father got thrown out of a first class train coach before he took up civil rights, we seem to have chugged on to a better station.

We’ll have a champagne lunch (Let there be Moet…) with the Taj Mahal as the backdrop. We’ll taste the finest cuisine of each state as we pass through it. Murg Jardaloo simmering in our mouths, penne with creamy saffron sauce melting our palate. The state-of-the-art “air cushion” technology (on the Maharaja Express) is much better than the earlier “spring” technology. We’ll hardly feel anything. Musicians, dancers and elephants will greet us at stations.

Ajay Trehan, CEO, The Luxury Trains, is called “Ajay Train” by his colleagues. “Road connectivity and safety in India can’t be relied upon,” he says. “Whereas, here you have a hotel that moves with you”. Arup Sen of Cox & Kings seconds this: “Our luxury train will cocoon the lack of infrastructure in the country. Also, if anyone was to cover the same destinations by plane, he’d go crazy trying to catch every flight on time. Here the itinerary works on its own”. Thomas Cook’s Sunil Suri adds that train journeys treat people to a countryside that road journeys seldom do.

Private railway cars and royal trains were once the status symbols of maharajas and maharajas only. The largest and most luxurious railway carriage ever built in Britain was for Maharaja Yeshwant Rao Holkar of Indore in 1936 — the art deco interior included sycamore wood, chrome, pink mirrors and an internal telephone system. Such satisfaction will now be available in abundance to those who want to bridge the gap between riches and royalty, at least when on vacation. Considering The Indian Maharaja is already 70 per cent booked, right into 2010, there are many royal seekers.

We might get the presidential carriage all to ourselves. A limo will take us to Mehrangarh Fort and to Jaipur shops. There’s going to be tiger spotting and an exhibition elephant polo match. We’re going to see the sun rise on the Ganges in Varanasi, the temples of Khajuraho, and the ruins of Champaner. Back on the train, there’ll be Mark Tully (on Maharaja Express) to talk to us about India. We’ll have numerologist Sanjay Jumaani too (on The Indian Maharaja)…

Historically, markets for these luxury products lie in the UK, US and most of western Europe. Domestic Indians form only about five per cent of The Indian Maharaja’s clients, not counting nostalgic NRIs.

“What recession?” laughs Trehan, when asked whether he’s felt the meltdown, and goes on to explain that their clientele is too high-end to cut holiday costs because of Wall Street. Suri and Sen claim the recession’s effects have been negligible and are fast disappearing. Sen talks about a German family that’s expressed interest — they are now earning Euros 670 million instead of Euros 700 million per annum. “Now how would that make a difference to their lifestyle?”

For an industry and its clientele far more horrified by 26/11 than by the economic downturn, security is a serious concern. Sen says the government is taking this concern very seriously and will provide the necessary support for their joint venture.

Mystic Mahabaleshwar

Mahabaleshwar is a beautiful hill station situated in the Western Ghats. It is at a altitude of 1353m above the sea level, so very cold during summer. This was the capital of Bombay Province during British rule. Mahabaleshwar is easily approachable from Mumbai, it is at a distance of 285 km from Mumbai.

Mahabaleshwar has many beautiful places. These are called points, one can hire private taxis to go there. These points can be covered in one day. Some of the popular points are Arthur’s Seat, Tiger’s Spring, Wilson point, Sunset point which is also popularly known as Bombay point.

Sunset point is very popular and there is lot of rush at this spot at sunset hour. One can see the beautiful valley with greenery from most of these points. Venna lake is another famous tourist spot, one must enjoy boating here. There are three waterfalls in this region, these are Chinaman’s waterfall, Lingmala and Dhobi waterfall. To see the real beauty of these waterfalls one must visit them after the rains.

Other famous points are Kate’s Point, Lodwick Point, Elphinstone Point, Helen’s Point, Falkland Point. Some of these are named after the viceroys of India.

Old Mahabaleshwar is called Kshetra Mahabaleshwar, there is an ancient Shiva temple, which has the swayambhu shiva lingam. There is another temple nearby called Panchganga temple which is said to be the sangam of five rivers — Koyna, Savitri, Gayatri, Venna and Krishna. Many people visit this place as a part of pilgrimage.

If time and money permit, one can go to the ayurvedic spa centres here which offer different massages and treatments for tension relief and many chronic diseases.

Another hill station which is very near Mahabaleshwar is Panchgani (18 km). This place derives its name from the five hills around it. This hill station also has some beautiful points to see, like Parsi point from where one can see the Krishna valley and waters of Dhom dam, Table Land which is the second highest plateau in Asia after the Tibetan plateau. Some spacious caves are here, it is said that some of the caves were built by Pandavas during Mahabharata period. One can see the beautiful locations here used in many Bollywood movies.

Those interested in history and forts can visit the Pratapgad Fort, which is 20 km from Mahabaleshwar. This was built under the command of Shivaji Maharaj by his prime minister. This fort has the famous Bhavani mata temple, which was built by Shivaji. Buses and taxis go up only to the base of the fort, the rest has to be covered on foot.

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