Travel Blog - Journey, Stories and Experiences

When you travel, especially alone, you sometimes meet other people who are in the same space as you. What's exciting for me is to think for a second about how we met at the same place. If you think about it, if they are foreigners like me, they might have decided to come to that country, applied for a visa, and booked tickets while I was also doing the same, sitting in my home. They must have thought about going to the same place that day when I decided to go too. Sometimes, they would have other plans, but they got changed, and they arrived at the same location at the same time where I was, or vice versa. It's something I witnessed long back, an account I wrote in the Butterfly Effect blog.  These people stayed with me even after those meetings. I have often found myself telling these stories to my friends, and they have often appreciated it. Some stories, I have never told anyone. Such encounters rarely end up in exchanging numbers, but I still remember all of them, and I wi...

In the last part , as I mentioned, we hurriedly went to the market to buy wool as the clouds were getting darker, and when I looked over the mountain peaks, they looked straight from an alien movie. Harshil Valley had changed many colours since I had arrived. My main motive for visiting the market was to buy original sheep wool from a local house, and my mother had promised she would knit the sweater for me. When we reached there, all the shopkeepers were running to shut their shops to get to their homes before the rain. I was there in November, and it was not a "touristy" time. People just pass through Harshil in the summer months as it falls on the way to Gangotri Dham. The gates had closed in October, and in addition, it was the start of harsh winters that Harshil faces. Half of the locals had already migrated to Uttarkashi and Pauri for the winters, while a few left who were waiting to prune the Apple trees.  The first shop I went into, the woman was in a hurry. It is wor...

The Landing I had finally reached Gangtok . It was a hell of a ride but I did. Gangtok was a beautiful place and a really disciplined one. I liked how people were so fond of following rules and maintaining the cleanliness of Gangtok. I remember one example of the same. I saw a guy who was not from Sikkim , eating a packet of chips and was on the other side of the road than where I was. He ate all the chips and threw the packet on the grass which was on the other side of the footpath. So basically you have a road, then a footpath on the edges and on the other edge of the footpath you have little grass. The dustbin was around 10-20 meters back to the direction of that guy. As soon as he threw the packet, the lady who was walking just behind him picked the packet and went back to the dustbin and threw the packet there. She did not even let that guy know about what she has done, not scolding him like what Anushka Sharma did and definitely not uploading it on social media like a publ...

" Can it be fixed? " were my words as I was so doubtful about the final result. He said, " yes, yes, look what I will do, I will take this rope and tie this to this spring and remove the mudguard by hammering it. Although tyres will not be straight as the spring is broken but since there is no mudguard, what will they touch to? And the spring which was hanging, I will tie it. ". This was his solution. I smiled at him and he smiled back, I knew he would do it but I was not sure about the final destination whether it will be Gangtok or some village where this car will finally breakdown. I rushed towards the two boys who were smoking a cigarette under a shed of a house about 10-15 meters away. The visibility was just 5-8 meters by then. I could just see the main road and the people sitting outside their house where I was standing. Another boy who was sitting beside me in the cab also asked the same question to the driver and he gave him the same answer. While I was...

I and my sister decided to visit Bhutan on the 24th of March for its international festival and trekking.  Bhutan hosts this beautiful international festival called Paro International Festival and I wanted to witness it. We had made all the reservations for flights and train but left the reservations of Hotels for on the spot booking. On the 24th morning, I arrived at the Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport and met my sister, all set to see the spectacular view of the festival that was being organised which looked just like this.     I expected to see people dancing on the roads, wearing traditional dresses and huge dragons on the way. But soon, my sister spoke the words that shattered all the above imaginations. She said, " I won't be able to go, I have some really urgent work in the company, I am really really very sorry". I was like what the hell? Why didn't you tell me before? She said the flights were non-refundable and still I thought we could...