Mcleodganj is perhaps every backpacker’s rite of passage to India. Except that it is so unlike India, I feel I’ve skipped a few legalities, missed a few stamps on my passport, and entered a world I was taught is forbidden.

I see a foreign face around every corner, interspersed with men and women robed in red & orange, lending a tranquil vibe to the chaos on the narrow streets. I’m fascinated by the small stalls & shops selling colorful bric-a-brac; little memorabilia from Tibet that has been reproduced elsewhere in India or Nepal.

The sidewalls are covered with graffiti about Tibet, a reminder of the refugee lives of the people in Dharamsala. This has to be the only hill station in India where no shop-owners are shouting to sell their goods, nor touting foreign travelers; I can feel a spirit of acceptance among the people, or maybe a disguised form of dejection.

I wonder if in 1959, when His Holiness the Dalai Lama found shelter in Dharamsala from China’s occupation of Tibet, anyone would’ve thought that Tibet will sustain its magnanimous culture and continue the much-needed propagation of the teachings of Tibetan Buddhism. I’m given to hear that Mcleodganj is much more akin to Tibet than present day Tibet itself, a thought that makes me proud of India for physically & financially supporting a culture that could’ve been long dead.

I allow myself to be distracted, first by the typically Tibetan handicrafts, and then by the alternate cafe culture that has housed itself in Mcleodganj. There are rooftop gardens, Italian joints, organic food cafes, and of course, authentic Tibetan food dhabas. I am amused to see the cafes being frequented by monks & nuns, but gradually become so accustomed to their presence that everywhere I go, my eyes subconsciously search for the deep red colors.

In my head, I had formed a strong association with Dharamsala while in Spiti; everyone I met in the mountain desert had some roots in this relatively lower-lying valley. The spiritual similarities now surface themselves, though the mountains that were bare brown in the Spitian background have now been painted a lush green. I stroll behind some lamas, past blue tents selling knick-knacks that remind me of the Tibetan market in Mussoorie, and resist an elderly lady scooping fresh momos from her high stool just outside the monastery.

In the alley that leads to both the monastery and HH Dalai Lama’s house, the first signs of security surprise me. I miss the innate trust of the people of Spiti, but things are different here in Dharamsala for good reason. I expect a solemn ambience at the monastery at this late-evening hour, but a buoyant atmosphere greets me; it’s debating hour and the monks are animatedly clapping & talking in what sounds like the Bodhi language. I can’t help but smile at the prevailing cheerfulness.

The monastery is beautiful, open and airy, as most monasteries I’ve visited before. I seat myself on a bench in the verandah, and watch the clouds play hide & seek with the Himalayas, as they gradually descend to greet us mortals and reveal to us a gorgeous sunset. No power, I assure myself, can rob the people of such natural beauty, and the conviction that comes with it.

Club Mahindra has a resort at the foothills of the Dhauladhar range, 5 km from Dharamsala city on the Palampur road. It offers an exclusive opportunity to learn the Tibetan arts & crafts. Here is the view of the river that flows by the resort.

I just got back from a short trip to Goa. This was not my first and it probably won’t be my last either. But this was a trip after several years; my last had been towards the end of 1975.

Despite Goa being touted as a destination of choice that draws German charter flights like a Goan to his feni, the airport in Goa remains rather unassuming with no aerobridges or tunnels. You have a choice of prepaid taxis to take you to your destination, ours being Panjim. The buses are sparsely crowded with folks who are going about their work with baskets and since we do a lot of “push-push-shove-shove-squeeze-through-to-the-exit” in Mumbai, we decide to treat ourselves to a taxi and pretend we are on a five star vacation.

Goa to me was a bunch of cities interspersed in a wealth of small villages dotted with greenery. The big difference this time was there are no well defined village boundaries any more. Some of the older Mangalore-tiled houses with intricate trellises and bowers of greenery, leaning over imposing entrances have given way to cement-concrete monstrosities. Some unavoidable industrial areas have come up, but they still try and blend in with the surroundings, moderating their external display. Goa is still lush with mangroves, trees, and several mango, cashew and coconut trees crown it. You notice “houses nestled amongst trees” as opposed to trees decorating the house.

There are several watchdog organisations today that ensure that newly planted trees exceed trees brought down during any construction activity. One is delighted to see inland waterways, and mangroves. While driving inland in the hills, pineapples bought from locals certainly tasted much sweeter. Old women hawkers on the streets and markets of Panjim sell raw cashews and Goa’s local mangoes.

Earlier, as you entered the main village area, you would see a large football field, a church and temple, where you read announcements of impending matches with a visiting village team from elsewhere; folks landed up to cheer their team, to be followed by a goodwill feni session, and a hearty meal.

Roads in Goa are wonderful with most being two lane highways. I don’t recall seeing a single speed limit sign during my entire stay. Everyone drives as fast as they want, our taxi driver did an hour drive in 35 minutes flat without a single pothole jostle.

Goan tourism tries to do a commendable job running various tours. One cannot help but smile, when on explaining the importance of Aguada fort, where there is a jail, the tour guide proudly mentions that two very prominent criminals managed to escape from there. There is even a bust of one of the criminals, in the fancy restaurant where he was finally arrested.

The old quarter of Panjim, now treated as a heritage area has these amazing “gulleys”, (small pathways), where houses with intricate carvings and trellises, and a blue delft like plate fitted into the wall outside announces the name of the owners. Dark blue and brick red appear to be the favourite colours of buildings along with white. These areas are dotted with homely restaurants serving typical Goan food, and many are rather highly recommended.

We were treated to a lunch in one of these by our Goan friend towards the end of our trip. Fish Curry and rice being the staple, this place excels in serving various varieties of fish. The non vegetarians amongst us ate with single minded devotion to the plate in front oblivious to everything.

And then there is the Ferry. Despite the Panjim Mandovi river bridge spanning across Panjim and Betim, most people still like to travel across the river by Ferry. And so you see tons of two wheelers emerging, as if from the river, when the Ferry docks at Panjim or Betim. The heady combination of sea, fish and diesel fumes offers the right incentive for a chilled beer or a feni, wherever you plan to go next.

On our last day in Panjim we were looking for a place that sells a typical Goan sweet. Our Goan friend served this to us over tea at her riverfront living room in Betim. A deadly combination of gram flour (channa flour), coconut, and local jaggery (probably toddy based) this melt-in-your-mouth stuff has not been given the publicity it deserves.

And finally as we head  back to the airport, it is time to relax, take a nap and release the tensions.

Rediscover , relax and rejuvenate yourself in Club Mahindra’s  Goa property in Varca Beach

We were on our way to Jodhpur from Udaipur and an important halt on the way had to be Kumbalgarh as were told that it was a ‘not to miss’ fort. We were not disappointed. The roads all the way were wonderful and despite visiting Eklinji and Nathdwar on the way we reached Kumbalgarh by 1pm. On the way we passed the impressive Club Mahindra Kumbalgarh Resort.

Though the sun was beating down mercilessly the first sight of the fort was enough to drive away any tiredness. Having parked in the official parking lot and buying the entrance tickets we set out to explore this much talked about fort.

We were accosted by ‘guides’ at the gate but we decided doing the fort on our own. There is a map at the entrance which one can use to decide what one wants to see. There is also a plaque there which told us that this fort was built by Rana Kumbha of Mewar in the 15^th century. It was built on a 3,500feet high hill overlooking the approaches from Ajmer and Marwar and was considered impregnable. The fort remained impregnable to direct assault, and fell only once, due to a shortage of drinking water, to the combined forces of Mughal Emperor Akbar, Raja Man Singh of Amber, Raja Udai Singh of Marwar, and the Sultan of Gujarat.

Another interesting fact was that, of the 84 fortresses defending Mewar, 32 were designed and built by Rana Kumbha. Of these, Kumbhalgarh, with its 36-kilometer long wall and soaring towers is the most impressive. This wall is supposed to be 2^nd only to the Great Wall of China in size!

Now it is famous as the birthplace of Maharana Pratap, the great King and warrior of Mewar. It was occupied until the late 19^th century but now the fort is open to the general public as a museum. It is lit up for a while every evening which is supposed to look spectacular. Unfortunately due to paucity of time we did not have the fortune to witness that.

Apparently there are 360 temples within the fort , 300 ancient Jain and the rest Hindu. To ascertain this, would have had to stay at Club Mahindra Resort nearby, maybe will do some other time. But if you have the time and the patience and the interest in history it would be a delightful exercise.

According to legend, in 1443, the Maharana of Kumbhalgarh, Rana Kumbha, was initially unsuccessful in repeated attempts to build the fort wall. To overcome this hurdle a seer was consulted about the construction problems who advised ruler that a voluntary human sacrifice would solve whatever that was causing the impediment. He also advised building a temple at the spot where the head would fall after the sacrifice, and to build the wall and the fort where the rest of his body lay. As can be expected, for quite some time no one volunteered, but one day a pilgrim volunteered and was ritually decapitated. Today the main gate of the fortress, Hanuman Pol, contains a shrine and a temple to commemorate the great sacrifice.

Right on top is the Badal Mahal which offers spectacular views.

We spent a couple of hours taking in the awesome sights of and from the fort and then started back the long walk back to the parking lot with a sense of having participated in the most historic forts of Rajasthan.

The Club Mahindra Resort in Kumbalgarh is a sprawling luxurious property overlookin the magnificent mountains. The fort is barely 5 kms from the resort.

Ladakh being one of the highest inhabited plateaus and situated amidst formidable mountain ranges makes it one of the preferred destinations to witness remoteness in its truest forms. The same remoteness allows for chance sightings of wildlife just by the roadside. Over the 12 days I was wandering in Ladakh I saw many kinds of birds and animals. Here are few that I managed to capture.

1. Kiang or the Tibetan Wild Ass

The largest of the wild asses, kiang is found in the Tibetan Plateau living between altitudes of 4000 to 7000 meters. These animals are surprisingly athletic and move with amazing grace. With its association to the ass family, I did not expect them to look any pretty but they do. Kiangs are frequently spotted in Changthang region of Ladakh.

I spotted these Kiangs while going through the little traversed route of Mahe -Chushul – Spangmik.

2. Ladakh Urial

First things first, do you spot them in the picture below? Their camouflage is freaking awesome. Well these are the Ladakh Urial I suppose, correct me if I am wrong. I spotted them on the way to Tso Moriri from Leh.

3. Wild Hare

Well again near the Chushul region, we noticed sudden movement on the land in front of us only to find these little creatures running away from us.

4. Bactrian Camel / Double Hump Camel

Well, as the name says these camels have two humps as opposed to the single hump camels found elsewhere. Only a small population of Bactrian Camels was left here in Ladakh long ago which continue till date but all of them have been domesticated. The only surviving wild counterparts of Bactrian camels exist in Mongolia which I hope to see someday. This was shot in Hunder of Nubra Valley.

5. Black Necked Crane

The Chushul marshes are apparently where the black necked cranes migrate every summer. Luckily we spotted few here and there. The marshes were looking amazing for sure.

6. Yak

I have nothing much to say about this. I spotted them between Loma and Nyoma after crossing Mahe that is.

7. Himalayan Marmot

These very cute looking creatures similar in appearance to the beavers live in the high mountains and can be found quite often by the roadside in the Changthang region or any place with some grass. I spotted these while returning from Pangong to Leh.

8. Sheep

Technically not wildlife but it is amazing how small they look in front of the grand landscape there! Cattle are one of the primary sources of livelihood in Ladakh from what I have seen.

9. Horses

The horses are left freely here and probably they return back to their owners by night fall. Spotted these at many places but this was shot on the farther end of Pangong towards China.

Most travellers heading to Ladakh start their journey from Manali, where Club Mahindra has a wonderful resort . Do refresh yourselves here before you begin your trip to the mountains

What’s in a name? Well not everything. But a coastal town in the Nagapattinam district of Tamil Nadu with a name like ‘Tranquebar’ certainly had a magical ring to it and enough allure for us to plan a visit.

Not surprisingly, our decision to go to Tranquebar was met with raised eyebrows and strange glares. A five hour drive to a relatively unknown destination is not what most would call a good choice for a short weekend trip. But luckily for us Tranquebar turned out to be a quaint town and the perfect place to just sit back, relax and do absolutely nothing, but gaze at the azure waters of the Bay of Bengal. In fact the ocean looked so beautiful and serene, that it was hard to imagine that it was the same ocean that we had been keeping us company as we drove down from Chennai.

A former Danish trading centre, Tranquebar or Tharangambadi (meaning ‘place of singing waves’) was founded by the Danish in 1620, after getting into an agreement with King Raghunatha Nayak to pay Rs. 3111 per month as rent. Eventually bought by the Danish, it was later sold to the British in 1845.

As we drove through the once majestic Gateway of Tranquebar, now a dilapidated structure crying out loud for some restoration, we were transported back in an instant to an era gone by. The road leading up to the beach is lined on both sides by buildings built during both the Danish and British rule. The Zion Church and the New Jerusalem Church, built in 1701 and 1718 respectively are still active places of worship.

As the road turns left we caught a glimpse of the Dansborg Fort flanked by the grand Bay of Bengal.  A dull yellow structure and not exactly like the mighty forts seen elsewhere in India, the fort now houses a museum.

If Dansborg Fort is historically the most important structure in Tranquebar, then the most beautiful is undoubtedly, the Bungalow on the Beach, now a hotel with 8 rooms. A majestic white building with a slopping red terracotta roof, the bungalow was used as a Collector’s house in 1845 under the British rule.  The charming bungalow situated right on the beach offers breathtaking views of the ocean, dotted with numerous fishing trawlers, with the Dansborg Fort to the right and the mysterious Masillamani temple on the left. The oldest structure still standing in Tranquebar, the Masillmani temple originally had 3 mandapams of which only one survives. The one standing gopuram is in ruins and is barely protected from the sea by some big boulders to keep the water from hitting against the structure.

But nothing could keep us for long from returning to the bungalow, wanting to make the most of the time we had and to spend as many hours out on the pillared verandah that runs all along the first floor of the house, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing and watching the birds circle the clear blue sky.

There are not too many places that I have been to in the recent past that I have left with an almost certain feeling that when and if I do go back at some point in the future, I will see it looking better than when I saw it last. But luckily Tranquebar I believe will be one such place. The efforts being put in by the Danish Government, INTACH and several others towards restoring more jewels of Danish legacy will make Tranquebar only more beautiful if that’s possible.

Tranquebar is barely a couple of hours from Pondicherry , where Club Mahindra has a Zest property.  Do plan a trip to Pondicherry and Tranquebar the next time youtake a beach holiday

As I walk towards the camel fair ground, I have a preconceived image of the fair in the back of my mind. From what I have seen in the photos till now, it is a very colorful atmosphere with decorated camels on sand dunes, tourists galore, stalls and so on.

The shops are open on both sides of this narrow road. It is around eleven in the morning and there is no rush to lure the tourists. Also, there is no sign of sand anywhere. Am I mistaken?

At a distance I see a Ferris wheel being fixed up. Oh that’s the ground! I run towards it. I hear some strange grunting sounds. Do camels sound so? I am excited. With rucksack, camera and water bottle I go in the direction where camels are parked.

My first impression on seeing the camels is a disappointment. There is only one color and different shades of it in the vicinity. Brown. There are more camels than men in this huge ground. The whole atmosphere is a little languid. Under the scorching sun I see people lazing on string cots or near their carts which serve as their temporary homes.

Walking is a bit difficult now and I realize it is sand under my feet! On enquiry I find myself standing in a camel market !

Camels are tied in a row or in a circle and fed some fodder. Some standing tall, some sitting while some other pretend to sleep! As I go near them, I find a few interesting things. By nature they are very calm animals. They don’t make a fuss about the food or the place. They chew and make faces, some cute, some unattractive.

I ask a man who tends to a camel. He turns out to be the owner and gestures me to sit on a cot nearby. He tells me what it is to come in this fair to sell a camel. For full one year they wait for these ten days where they can do any business. He has come from a tiny village in Jaisalmer and hopes to get a good return on his camel. While he asks his nephew to play Ramanta for me, he worries about the women in the family who are left behind. Except for some tourists, I have not seen a single woman till now.

I notice the decoration of camels is of two types. Almost every camel has been tattooed. Henna mixed with black dye makes pretty designs and motifs on their body. Some camels are numbered as well. Few of them are groomed neatly with their hair cropped off or shaved to give a nice design. Remember Aamir Khan in Ghajini?:)

There is a calf numbered 386 among them, almost of my height. I try to go near it but shooed away by its mother reminding me that all mothers are same when it comes to protecting their young ones.

I walk by some shops selling all the accessories needed for decorating a camel.

Walking on sand I see a woman at a distance; the sole woman preparing chapathi (flat bread) on a stove made of bricks. Camera shy, she does not utter a word but a man hurriedly comes to her rescue. He tells me she has to feed five men of her family. Anyway this is a temporary arrangement till she goes back to her village where she has a pakka chulha.

At sunset, a major portion of this vast expanse becomes lively with more people than camels. The nautankiwala, bioscope wala, chai (tea) seller, women attired in colorful dresses and jewelry, photographers and tourists. The brown color is subdued by vibrancy of other colors. My initial impression of the place undergoes a sea change.

Some of the camels are decorated for the tourists, mostly foreigners. The colorful saddles, halter and nose pegs and carts are attached. These camels are tame and obedient. The charges for a camel ride are exorbitantly high but after a failed attempt at bargaining nobody minds paying for it.

This ground is home to none. Everybody has come here for a purpose. Me too.

After soaking myself in this spectacular affair I bid adieu to Pushkar for the day to catch my bus for Ajmer where I stay. Tomorrow is yet another day on this ground when different contests for camels start.

Do plan your visit to Rajasthan with Club Mahindra. We have resorts in Kumbalgarh and Nawalgarh,

Everything is nothing, nothing is everything! This is what our guide said about the Borobudur temple. Borobudur temple has 13 levels and all the way up the steps, there are carvings of Buddhist culture and history with a tiny bit of Hindu culture. There are war sagas and legendary beauties all the way from level four till level nine. Now, these are not equally spaced levels. From ground level to level four might have been around 20 steps. But upwards happens to get more steeper. After listening to the Buddhist history on level four, we pondered.

Took a moment to enjoy the cool morning breeze and looked around. Coming to Borobudur for the famous sunrise had been worth the ride. Fortyfive minutes from the city of Yogyakarta in Indonesia, in the middle of nowhere, temperate climate and yet really close to a beach. Everything was around the temple. This was Borobudur, within the beautiful jungles Java.  In distance was the active volcano Mt. Merapi. Hot and blazing up smoke.  So the nothing around this temple is indeed Everything.

Why is the Borobudur sunrise so famous? When you walk up the levels of the temple and look east, what you see is the sun rising behind this active volcano. The sight of  hot gases and smoke rising up as sunrays slowly emerge behind Merapi is amazing. It first felt like see a hot cup of coffee with steam against it and a beautiful sunrise. Magnify that hot cup but two million times and that is Merapi for you. Active and scary, the local guides have actually stopped mountain treks to Merapi which were a hit with visitors till a few years ago.

As we walked up the levels ten to thirteen, the last four levels mostly have Stupas. Each of the Stupas is supposed to have a Buddha inside who is seeing the world through the square holes. Restoration of the temple is in progress and some Buddhas can be spotted sitting inside the Stupa with a little teasing smile.

The topmost level was under restoration when I visited in August 2011. But all it housed was another Buddha. Another Buddha looking through the square holes of the Stupa and smiling at the world. That’s the nucleus, the everything. Nothing really!

It is four in the morning and the eyes are still getting used to the darkness around . An icy breeze tugs at you, awakening the silent waters of the River Kosi flowing through the Club Mahindra resort. Standing on the banks of the river, I watch the moonlit ridges of the mountains, towering above, almost touching the jeweled sky. While some of my fellow travelers are star gazing, a few are attempting night photography. I , for one am just lost in the silence.

The summons arrive on the mobile and we are hurriedly on our way to keep up our date with the tiger in the forests of Corbett . It is our second attempt out there to meet the most coveted denizen of the jungle, having spent an entire day in the wilds . But the tiger probably was aware that almost 20 vehicles would be entering through the Jhirna zone for a rendezvous. So it left us high and dry, leaving behind its pugmarks as we saw several jeeps bringing in all types of tourists including international students who would break into a jig at the very sight of even a deer. We did see several birds, butterflies and smaller mammals, but for the “tiger tourists”, the sightings were just not enough.

Today , however as we board our jeeps, there is a feeling of hope. It is an auspicious moment, as the Bijrani Gate of the Jim Corbett National Park is to be opened  today ,months after the monsoons. The other gates, am told are still closed.

As we drive away in the darkness, hoping for an encounter,  we have no idea  what is in store for us .The experience begins at the government office in Ramnagar.. A couple of members from our group are already waiting there for the last hour to get the requisite permits and documents for the safari. I am told it’s a bit of luck and some push here and there. Then we see the never ending queue for the permits. And that is when I learn a bit about the trappings of tiger tourism . We wait there for what seems like hours.

Finally there are smiles all around as we make our way to the gate. And then the never ending wait begins as another 20 odd jeeps queue up around. Dawn breaks and the sunlight filters as restlessness sets in. The drivers exchange notes and the topic of discussion veers around the recent strike by the forest guides who are demanding more rights. “In fact “says my driver “the opening of the gates was postponed by a few days because of the strike. “  I ask him why we are still waiting and he says some officials have to come.  We laugh wondering if there is some form of an opening ceremony and to my surprise, a television crew lands . The interviews with the officials are on ; the cameraman takes some footage of us , sleepy eyed and hungry waiting to enter the national park . And finally after more teas and pakodas, the green signal is given and after almost a couple of hours wait,  we enter the national park

The sunlight filters through the tall sal trees as we drive along the safari route of this deciduous forests, squinting through the dense foliage . The naturalist in our group Karthikeyan Srinivasan keeps us engaged , spotting birds , spiders and small mammals.  . Corbett he says has about 600 species of birds, of the 1200 recorded in India. We spot a mongoose , while our friends see the rare yellow throated marten ,besides langurs and deer . But then the tiger, probably having spotted the jeep load of tourists, has again moved on , leaving its footprints on the sands of time. As we head back, the birders in our group are happy , but the tiger tourists are a tad disappointed .

As for me, Corbett is more to do with the man,  Jim Corbett himself than about the tigers he hunted .Corbett National Park, the oldest in India was earlier known as Hailey National Park before it took the name of the famous naturalist, author of several books. And having grown up on his “Man eaters of Kumaon,” I saw the villages and the forests vividly in front of my eyes, as I had imagined while reading the book.

My favourite memory of Corbett is visiting his house, now a museum in Kaladhungi,  walking around it, looking at the paintings and imagining him being on call from villagers when a man-eater struck in their hamlets. And as I walk away , his words remain in my mind .. “A tiger is a large-hearted gentleman with boundless courage and that when he is exterminated – as exterminated he will be unless public opinion rallies to his support – India will be the poorer by having lost the finest of her fauna. “

However, I am sure,  I will get a glimpse of  this “large hearted gentleman “someday in the forests .

This story was published in The Hindu Metro Plus as a part of the author’s column, Inside Story. The author was part of the Bloggers’ Meet in Corbett. For details regarding the resort, please visit here

The noise is deafening but I am much thankful about the ability of human brain to totally phase out the distractions and transport one to a different time and day altogether. This Diwali, the sound of crackers is slowly fading out as the gentle echo of the flowing river is ringing in my ears. A vision forms in my head, of a huge glass window, of a comfortable bed, of green forests beyond and a charming river called Kosi. A week before, I spent few days in the foothills of Himalayas, wandering in the dreamy realms of forests around Corbett.

Few weeks ago, when I was invited for a blogger’s meet hosted by Club Mahindra Safari Resort, truth to be told, I was more excited about meeting fellow bloggers than being in Corbett itself. I think I had forgotten what it felt like, to be in forests. I thank Corbett for reminding me of the grandeur of the woods! I thank club Mahindra for taking me there to begin with.

The first thing that struck me as we reached our rooms was the view, it was gorgeous! Usually resorts almost always do have a good view, but the reason I liked this view so much more was the resort’s proximity to the river and the cozy feeling surrounding it. The nights were comfortably cold as opposed to the piercing cold winter nights which made it possible to walk by the river side and watch the hills beyond till late nights. While the mornings were quite pleasant, nights were spectacular. Starry skies used to surround us as darkness descended. Whiling away time waiting for shooting stars and watching the moon rise over the hill reflecting the silvery glow in the flowing waters were some of the best memories of the trip. To think that there was a time when darkness used to scare me! [Frankly speaking I still am afraid of darkness, well in weird places. ]

If that was about idling in comfort in nature’s lap, the eclectic mix of people was just as fun with varied conversations and discussions. With social media experts to naturalists and travelers to photographers, the group had it all. What such different people brought along with them were such different perspectives. Few were happy watching the colorful avifauna, while few were interested in observing spiders and insects, few were busy trying to spot mammals, few were enjoying being in the forest and I was busy light stalking.

Like I said earlier, I had forgotten how it felt to be in the jungles. The moment we entered the jungles of Corbett, the show began! The forest came alive. The golden glow of the early morning sun and the greenery painted an unforgettable picture. I was gaping at the jaw dropping scenery unraveling itself at every turn and every once in a while when I turned back, something like this was happening!

The gleaming beams of sun rays from behind the leaves left me almost blinded at many occasions. Yet, I tried and tried to see through the lens, if not my eyes, the lens could have been burned for sure! Sunbursts, they are called, and I tried my best to capture as many as I could. Whenever the vehicle stopped for the bird watchers to observe, the sudden calmness instigated a desire to the listen to the song of the forest.

Next day, driving though the verdant jungle of Sal trees, I was all too eager to spot some magic again. Of course the light didn’t disappoint me! Golden glow and faint silhouettes was the picture being painted today by the gods. Watching the streaks of rays through the canopy, I was smiling involuntarily. As much trouble it was, waking up at ungodly hours to reach the forest by the golden hour, it was all worth it!

I came back charmed by the forests and stunned by the play of light, a photographer’s delight! Don’t you agree?

Neelima was one of the bloggers who was invited to Club Mahindra’s resort at Corbett for the Bloggers Trip 2011

We’ve spent a chunk of the day in the jungles of Corbett, praying for a glimpse of the elusive big cat, thanking our stars for a rare sighting of the Yellow-throated Marten, and marveling at the magnificent colors of the Kingfisher, the Woodpecker & the Chestnut Bee-eater. I’ve rediscovered my love for the wilderness, but I’m equally glad to be back in my apartment; it is not everyday that I’m pampered with riverside luxury.

I watch the sunlight dancing in the river Kosi from the balcony of my Club Mahindra apartment, the water splashing over the rocks. This Corbett adventure is part of Club Mahindra‘s travel blogging trips across India, and I feel privileged to be part of it this year. Three days ago, six of us bloggers arrived at the Club Mahindra Safari Resort, with dreams of looking a tiger eye-to-eye in India’s oldest tiger reserve. As we watched the sun rise over Kosi from behind the mountains that morning, we didn’t know that we’d leave seeing a lot more.

I lounge in my balcony a little longer, charmed by the tirelessly flowing river, and then reluctantly give up my spot for a discussion on India’s biodiversity with Mr S.Karthikeyan, the first Indian naturalist I’ve met. I’m transfixed as he displays figure after figure, and picture after picture, of the lives we never think about. That night, he catches a little beetle crawling along a wall light, gently but firmly overturns it, and asks us what a cockroach does when overturned. Struggles, I think to myself, ducking my head close to it. Much to my surprise, the little guy leaps in a high back-flip and turns itself upright – a flipping beetle, it’s aptly called! Smiling, I think he too could be a tiger in an alternate universe.

As the sun starts to fade away in the evening sky, I stroll along the river, past the swimming pool, and into the gardens where the grass is still glittering in the fading sunlight. They remind me of the gardens we saw surrounding Jim Corbett‘s winter home. The man saved many a villager by hunting man-eating tigers & leopards, 50 and 250 of them respectively to be precise! I imagine Corbett’s lifestyle back in the 40s, when his humble two room house must’ve been surrounded by dense forests, with only a trail leading up to it. I imagine the nights he must’ve sat out, looking for his victims. A shiver runs down my spine as I see a cat staring at me from the path ahead, and I calmly make my way back to where my blogger friends are furiously photographing the orange sky and its reflection on the water.

As the air starts to get chilly, we camp ourselves under the stars and watch the artists of the region perform a Kumaoni version of the bagpiper. Every now and then, we look up from our delicious traditional Kumaoni meal and catch a shooting star, until the moon reveals itself from behind the mountains, and hogs all our attention. Following a string of after-dinner conversations & desserts, I walk back to the coziness of my room, convinced that ours is a lucky generation to enjoy the comforts of modern living amid the charms of nature.

Shivya was on invitation from Club Mahindra to attend the Blogger’s  Trip to Corbett