Sunil maneuvered the jeep onto a bumpy dirt track through the fields of wheat and millet that grew sparsely here in the Thar Desert. He stopped the car and switched off the engine. Suddenly, they came. A group of four gazelles, followed by a large herd of blackbuck antelope, the afternoon sun glancing off their elegant backs. I was hesitant to take out my long telephoto lens, lest the herd would scatter. Sunil smiled. “Don’t worry. They will not think that you are aiming a gun at them. They roam fearlessly here because this is the land of the Bishnois.”

India is a country that truly comes alive when explored by road. Forget the usual train rides and tour buses; there's something uniquely exhilarating about driving through this diverse and colorful land. Road trips here are about more than just the destination—they're about the journey, the people you meet, and the unexpected moments along the way.

The last of the sun’s rays fade behind the Aravalli mountain range leaving a heavenly afterglow. A somber melody with rhythmic rhapsodies reverberates down the vast expanse of the plains of Ranthambore and fades away beyond the mountains. It is fascinating to watch how skillfully Tularam plays the Ravanhatha, one of the world’s oldest stringed instruments. The red-turbaned 50-something man swiftly moves his fingers on the holes of the protracted wind. He also uses a curved bow to play the folk instrument and the plaintive melody seems to synchronize perfectly with the twilight hues.

A fog-drenched, grey morning greets us as we set out for our early morning short hike to the viewpoint, the highest point of Chatakpur. On a clear day, it offers a panoramic view of the entire village with majestic Kanchenjunga, the third highest Himalayan peak of the world at the backdrop.

In his sleek and self-illustrated volume ‘Jakhan Choto Chilam’ (When I Was a Child), the great Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray vividly portrays kaleidoscopic cameos of Calcutta (now Kolkata) of the interwar years, a city where he grew up.

Sunlight streamed in as I parted the window curtains of the double-decker luxury bus my husband and I were taking from Mumbai to the popular summer destination of Mahabaleshwar, 264 kilometers East of India’s biggest city. Outside, low-hanging tufts of clouds touched the opulent carpet of green that rolled down the hills.

The tallest paddy plant in the world, Pokkali grows up to 2 metres, with its grain-bearing head staying above the brackish flood waters that inundate coastal Kerala every year, where rising sea levels and frequent floods pose imminent climate threats.

Dharavi, in central Mumbai, is considered one of the largest slums in Asia, but deep within this neighborhood, below the shanty grey roofs, loosely comprised of scavenged, upcycled metal, lives a resourceful and innovative community that plays an imperative role in Mumbai’s city-wide waste management.

Blessed with serenity and tranquility, Wild Mahseer, named after one of the toughest game fishes, offers unique natural and cultural experiences to visitors. Spread over 22 acres of land, the heritage bungalows with antique furniture and colonial décor provide the opportunity to relive history and it is a perfect place to re-establish your lost bonding with nature.

The sprawling mansion looked like a medieval European castle with its arched bay windows and turrets in each corners, the dark red laterite façade gleaming in the morning sun. We got down from our car, and were immediately greeted by Debjit Singh Deo, who owns and runs this heritage building amid the bucolic settings of rural Odisha in eastern part of India. Debjit’s great grandfather King Jyoti Prasad Singh Deo of Panchkote had built this two-storeyed mansion in 1933 as a royal hunting lodge.

The expanse of the Bhopal sky slowly turns scarlet as we settle into the serene world of Jehan Numa Retreat. A short 30 minute drive from the Bhopal airport has us approaching the 12.5 acres boutique property of the erstwhile Nawabs of Bhopal in the Malwa plateau of Central India.

The stately manor that dates back to 1804 is the residence of the Bhanj Deo royal family that had ruled the princely state of Mayurbhanj in eastern India