Condensed milk, rooh-afza, and water from a mountain stream
It was at an art exhibition that I realized what hunger could mean. The walls were a pale ivory, the lights were sufficient and diffused, and the art panels were all in innumerable hues of black and grey. There was no one around when I entered and coming in after driving through the colour dense...
Redefining ‘Sanjeevani’ at the Valley of Flowers
It was sometime in the nineteen thirties that Frank S Smythe ‘came upon the lush and colourful Bhyundar Valley, the Valley of Flowers’ and he describes his adventures in the lower and upper Himalayas in his book. Smythe discovered that ‘the predominant note was peace; not the faintest breeze ruffled the herbage and the silence...
Twelve hours away from insanity
‘My college routine is making me insane. I need a break,’ said Specky. This one simple sentence led us into the heart of Spiti that we fondly remember now as being twelve hours away from insanity! Yes, we did a fair degree of research before we decided on Kaza as the place which would quite...
