Travel Stories

If the Indian Railways were an insect, they would be Dragonfly. Carefree and whimsical, they are not affected by perishable concepts of punctuality or dependency. They operate to fulfil their own higher aspirations, to stand as proof that mysterious powers still run the Universe. We could number the

My mornings started with repeated enquiries about the status of my lemonade from Maa. I usually reduced the frequency of my ‘casual strolls’  to the kitchen, after receiving disappointing glares from my mother, in self-defence. Almost all mornings were spent complaining about Krishna Aunty, who

Raju uncle is an amusing man. He is healthy-eating papa of two, and travelling isn’t the entertainment of his choice. If I were to live like him, I would play the Sitar and spend my days showering my love on the flooring climbers paying their annual visit to my garden. I would start my mornings [&