Perhaps you’ve felt the hair-raising excitement of a predator chase? I felt it too, except mine was laced with a tinge of cold fear.
His story is the story of so many kids we ignore every day on India’s streets.
This small, remote village in Maharashtra might never have found its way to India’s travel map.
If you have a spare smartphone or plan to upgrade to a new one, consider contributing it to this initiative?
I had no idea what it meant to call a river “alive”.
Ever since I gave up my home to embrace a life of travel, Goa has become my ‘digital nomad refuge’ in the monsoons.
Over the course of my travels in India, I’ve found myself in some strange predicaments.
On a chilly December night, I lay on the roof of a watch tower in the darkness of India’s stark salt desert – the Little Rann of Kutch.
Deep in the mountains of Uttarakhand, I discovered a secret.
When I dream of Goa, I don’t hear the roar of the ocean or feel the sand on my feet. I hear the pitter-patter of rain on old Portuguese roofs and the chatter of women in their rice paddies. I feel potent home-brewed Urakh smoothly slipping down my throat, a burst of flavors from fiery curries on my tongue and my mind slipping into a susegado mode. Earlier this year, when I landed in India after a six-month sojourn across Central and North America, I knew I needed Goa as much as I needed a cocoon of luxury to call my own. Alila Diwa was the kind of place on my mind, and this is why I loved staying there: Floating on the edge You know that feeling of lounging on a relaxing beach chair, floating in a pool that has no edge, shades on your eyes to keep the sun out, the wind ruffling your hair, a cocktail in your hand, lush rice paddies stretching out into the horizon? Yeah, I didn’t know it either. Until I found myself in Alila Diwa’s …