Travel... a day in Santa Fe

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Falgu: The Hidden river

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The rivers Sarayu and Falgu, in India are hidden rivers which flow beneath a layer of sand most times of the year. In the monsoon, following rain in its catchment areas, leads to its sudden flooding. However, soon after the rains, all that is left of the river is a balnket of sand. Mythology has it that both these rivers are cursed, but for any thirsty person, he has to dig jsut a liitle to find the waters flowing! There is this hidden river, where all you see is sand, they say the water runs beneath, which only the thirsty find...... It swells in the monsoon, it comes in flowing floods But in the heat of summer, has been serving a curse of gods. Dry as a bone you can see it, and still the cities thrive, Along its banks you can see, nature bounteous and alive! I have had my moments with you, Falgu Oh river of plight, For despite your apparent barenness, you have given to me delight!  upstream Falgu river  Mid stream dry Falgu river Down stream dry Falgu river...
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The Singalila song

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My friend asked me, what I missed about Darjeeling....I then started thinking of my childhood years there. I thought of the clouds that would roll up from the hills below, the 180 degrees of Himalayan mountain range that one could see form the town. the walk in the mist which would soak my eyelashes, the rain that would appear never to stop in the monsoon, the red rhododendron trees in April, the walks on lonely roads along the hill, friends, family, home... Of the many places I have been to perhaps it is the purest part of me that I carry from Darjeeling . It is my breath of fresh air, it is my bundle of precious memories, of people, wonderful times, enchanting scenes, happy days, precious friends and heartfelt music.  Darjeeling has given me the mountain beauty in my spirit. This song I grew up singing from the bottom of my heart and on the top of my voice kind of sums up my travel from Darjeeling as I joined the cities below.....  "Along th...
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Higher Window: From Smog to Splendour: Two Flights, Two Stories

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I usually prefer the aisle seat when I fly. Yet, on my last two journeys, fate placed me by the window—and what a difference that made! Both times, the aircraft’s higher window opened to a canvas of clear, azure winter skies. But the stories those skies told were worlds apart. Flight One: A Grey Blanket Over Delhi My earlier flight to Delhi was tinged with dismay. As we cruised above the clouds, the upper skies were a serene blue, but as we descended, a thick grey shroud of smog swallowed the city below. The aerial view was almost obliterated, leaving only a dull haze where vibrant streets should have been. Later, friends in Delhi remarked that they hadn’t seen blue skies for years—an unfortunate testament to the city’s worsening air quality. During my trip, the smog seemed omnipresent, clinging to every corner I visited. It was a sobering experience, and here are a few pictures from that journey: Flight Two: A Himalayan Surprise My next flight was a revelation. Somewhere above Gorakhp...
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