Experiences and excerpts from ‘Experience Agra and Around On The Road’ written and photographed by me, published by the Times of India. Whoo-hoo… …I went. Red too seemed visibly buoyant as we swayed to the simoom that swept the NH2 and lurched from a sweltering Delhi towards a scorching Agra. August last year was not any better from the summer of 2012 which was the hottest in decades, September was bound to get only worse with the rains – or whatever Delhi gets of it – and with me headed

I, like guys anywhere, have some of my fondest life-defining memories revolving around the bars in my hometown. In one I threw a bash after losing my virginity doling out the Marlboros she gave me which was also my first smoke, in another I celebrated a university rank, in yet another I drank to a divorce; much anticipated get-togethers with childhood buddies – couple of them out on parole – were always held in this one with spacious, smoking booths with the obsequious bearers fussing over the VIP guests, I

In an increasingly red-and-white world Fort Kochi is still green and blue. The same concession that thwarted all conquest still abounds. The Dutch and the Portuguese, the French and the Brits have all left, their latifundia considerably diminished and their illustrious pasts immured within cemeteries and churches. This estuarine land is fated to lose relevance as a propylaeum to not just Jewish faith but all things Jewish – the number of Jews has dwindled to 29 as of last week. What remains are a handful of rug and handicraft shops

All sporting events are tagged with a festive element that goes up with the rusticity of the setting. On the gaiety front – counting out the induced ones – few compare with the desert competitions of Rajasthan or the traditional water games of Goa. The snakeboat race of Kerala takes it up by another notch being a backwater sport. At a broader level, this spectacle too symbolises, like most other rural events, the triumph of the human will over the vagaries of nature. And my journey to Alleppey for the

The bunds that hold back the lake water from overrunning adjoining paddy fields glisten in trepidation. Rain trees canopies a calm that quivers in anticipation. Palm fronds hold their breath. The usually gregarious marsh toads fall uncannily silent, eyes wide and unblinking, lethal tongues sheathed. The cormorant makes several desperate swoops into the water only to come out empty-beaked; the panic probably at odds with its skillful timing. Sturdy hyacinths meekly make way for the houseboat sloshing towards the pier to be moored. Pirogues are manoeuvred deftly and quickly towards

Book review: India Junction – A Window to the Nation (An edited version of the review appeared in the Sunday Express dated July 20, 2014) This may not exactly be the most opportune time for a book on the Indian Railways, by the Indian Railways, what with the political and passenger angst around the recent fare hike. Then, there may not be a more suitable time either – despite all the allied brouhaha, public awareness on what ails the chugging behemoth is on a never-before high. Reasons and recommendations be divided facts

He was occupying my seat – number 33 – when I boarded the Duronto Express from Hazrat Nizamuddin to Ernakulam on July 5. “The terrorists were nice?” He asked incredulously into the phone in Malayalam. Now my assigned seat was a window – a good fortune which interminably brightened up my journeys – and I really wanted it back. But catching that bit of conversation put me in two minds: He obviously had something to do with terrorists and Hollywood had taught me that the nicer ones were usually the

The efflorescent shower, marigold garland and crimson tilak – de rigueur of a star-studded hospitality welcome – take valiant moorings when you enter Fort Auwa. Rightly cued, the jeep that picks you up from Marwar Junction stops just short of the yett from where you are requested to proceed on foot allowing the red carpet ceremonies to unfurl in their full sublime import.  A Buick is parked at the far end of the bailey – where Thakur Kushal Singh used to assemble his commanders for strategising attacks against the Mughals

The swelling tribe of the solo traveller is no fluke and has more to do with whom you go with than where you go to. Your fellow traveller is unfairly vested with the power to make or mar your trip. To mangle it or make it memorable. A well-travelled fella who isn’t garrulous is a godsend; a brooding hot one and St Christopher is your daddy. Then for most of us a lot of bad karma gets sorted on the road – flat tyres and forgotten luggage, revolting bowels and