Nestled in the bosom of Singalila National Park at an altitude of more than 7,000 feet above sea level lies a small secluded hamlet, Tamang Gaon, replete with spectacular views of the mountains. It is a hidden gem in the lap of Eastern Himalayas. This
I was not on the look-out for Glenarys, a place where tourists flock when in Darjeeling. Rather, I walked down the serene mountainous path meandering towards Raj Bhavan, across Bhanu Bhavan and the old church to reach a quaint café to stimulate my senses. The
The mist suddenly floats in and leaves you drenched. From the window of your homestay, you gaze at sailing clouds bringing in the message from beyond the Kanchenjungha. A fairytale unfurls before you. Locals believe Lord Buddha is in deep sleep beyond those mountains. This
I was not on the look out for Glenarys, a place where the whole tourist flock stocks to when in Darjeeling. On the contrary I took a serene mountainous path meandering towards Raj Bhavan, across Bhanu Bhavan and the old church. Hotel Windamare, with its
As a child I always loved the smell of old books, that often transported me to the world of dreams, where words bespoke tales of lands that I never travelled through or seas that I never crossed. That rustic unexplained odour, unknowingly became a part
I still remember Little Hercules, the legendary body-builder of Bengal, Manohar Aich. Yes, I had the good luck of meeting this man and even was turned away one day, when I reached his ‘akhada’ or class late. My only dream then was of a good