The Sky is Sardinian




“Hey, how are you? What’s happening?” came the reply on the other end of the line.

“Good, great, Are you on your terrace?”

“Yes, I am… I know it looks like the exact same colour, doesn’t it?” asked my best friend.

“It’s scary we remembered the same evening today… just saying,” I smiled into the phone

“That evening… how can we ever forget?”

“I’ve never seen those colors, coral and magenta…” I reminisced.

“How could we forget? You almost fell from our tender (a smaller boat used for ferrying to and from the yacht to the shore) ride into ‘Cala di Volpe’ getting the perfect shot.” teased my friend.

“What are you complaining about? You still have that picture on your bedside table.”

Oh, what a day that was, what a trip actually! We’d been on a super yacht all around the Italian Riviera for a week by then. Our perfect gang of twelve. We’d danced and partied in Capri, enjoyed the sunset from hotel ‘Caesar Augustus’, dined at the lemony ‘Paulinho’. We had enjoyed local gelato and pizza in Amalfi. Clicked a thousand pictures, jet skied and sea-bobbed in the gorgeous waters off Positano… and wait…we also slid down the massive slide attached for us from the third floor of our yacht into the turquoise blue water of the Tyrrhenian sea. Post which we enjoyed a leisurely lunch at ‘Il San Peitro di Positano’ where we couldn’t choose whether we wanted to gorge on the scrumptious meal or on the view of the emerald expanse below us.

We spent lazy mornings at breakfast fit for kings, talking our hearts out on board and then eating our hearts out on the streets of Ponza (a tiny island vacationed on by Beyoncé and Jay Z and Rihanna to name a few) where we ate the best brick oven pizza ever. We enjoyed laid back boat rides over almost crystalline still waters into post card Italian towns. We strolled through Portofino and ate short pasta in Santa Margarita. One afternoon our captain arranged for us to swim below an arch jutting off the rugged Italian shore. This was an unreal experience. Music blaring from our smaller boats, we just jumped off them into the greenest blue water which was as clear as the Kohinoor. We could actually see the sea-bed below our dancing feet with the sunlight piercing the ocean. We were in our own slice of heaven!

However the highlight of our trip was Puerto Cuervo in Costa Smeralda, Sardinia. It was the last destination we anchored in. We had a royal picnic on the fine sand beaches and dipped into the crisp blue water. We jumped from our deck into the ocean. We dined at ‘Cipriani’, danced at the ‘Billionare’ club, shopped at the boutiques.

The best however was saved for the last evening. As we stepped out onto the deck, dressed to the T for an enjoyable evening on land, we were awestruck by the view we beheld. We sat mesmerized on our tender rides into ‘Cala di Volpe’. I swear the sky was the same color as the watermelons we had devoured just hours ago. It was a palette of colors so vibrant that they seemed to be stroked by the brush of an artist. An artist who favoured rose-madder and mauve and lilac and coral, an artist who loved these happy colours, an artist who presented this beautiful display to us as a farewell gift. And we couldn’t get enough of it. We just wanted to etch this beautiful evening into our memories forever.

“The picture on my bed side is my favorite moment captured from that trip,” she confided.

“Also on top of my list was the ‘guard of honouresque’ welcome that the crew gave us in Naples.”

“I would very much like to forget that particular morning though, our last one there.”

“Come on let’s not go there,” I begged.

“It was so reckless of you!”

“I know, I know and I’m sorry even now.”

“I was watching you from the upper deck, repeatedly shouting and zooming passed us on your jet ski,” she chided.

“It was so much fun, speeding there almost felt meditative…until we hit the huge swell- ”

“Mom! you fell in the middle of the ocean speeding?” my youngest surprised (sneaking up on) me from the couch behind.

“You failed to mention that on your return,” added my older one.

“Was Dad the one you took down with you?!!” chimed in my middle one, not one to shirk from policing me.

“Oops! Busted! I’ll call you tomorrow.”

A Drive, A Walk and A Dip

Let’s kick the year off with an out and out WINTER DESTINATION. I’m itching to re-unite with all of you and share wonderful glimpses of my trips. I took a brief hiatus as I was enjoying a beautiful phase of my life. A personal promotion if I may say so (but that’s a story for another day, maybe someday!)

Last month a video of the very dashing English football captain, Harry Kane, diving face first into powder-white snow and then jumping back into the warmth of a hot-tub was doing rounds all over the net. That’s how I would imagine one enjoys the Finnish Lapland in the dead of winter. “I imagine” being the key words.

Little did I know…


The Drive

“Could you sleep on papa’s shoulder just for a bit?”

 She turns her head and voila! back to sleeping.

A solid nap later…

“Hey guys wake up, we’ve reached the Dhaba,” announced my husband.

“I’m famished!” exclaimed my son.

“Ditto,” I agreed.

After horsing down Paneer-Kulchas and Paneer-Pakoras and sweet lassi, we continued on our drive to Shimla, which we had started from Chandigarh. Two and a half hours and a few more broken naps enhanced by amazing music and a generally pleasant drive later…

“Mom is that stall selling Maggi?”


“Can we stop please?”

“Look another one” she pointed again.

High up in the foothills of the mighty Himalayas, by a tiny thatched stall on a narrow winding road we enjoyed the most delicious street-food, Maggi and Masala Chai.

The sun was setting as we entered our hotel.

“This looks like a movie set.”

“Wow! It’s unreal. “

“Welcome to the Wildflower Hall.”

In the night sky the hotel looked like an over-sized ginger-bread house which was covered in fresh snow. It’s foregrounds like a white carpet, dotted with tall trees and lit up by soft lamps. It looked like a scene straight out of ‘Country Living :Winter Edition’.

We knew it had snowed in the area, but we hadn’t anticipated actually living in snow. Our windowpanes were thickly frosted, the brown roof almost completely white, the fire crackling in our suite warmed our hearts and added a hint of drama to our already beautiful evening.


The Walk

If the night was so stunningly gorgeous, I couldn’t wait to see the snow in daylight.

It was another level of magic.

“It’s a short trail, mildly inclined.” Informed my husband.

“Let’s go and take all the beauty in.”

“Are you sure? We could just walk around in the front courtyard.”

“That’s pretty too, but let’s go on this small adventure,” I nudged.

Fully bundled and booted up, we walked to the outer periphery behind the hotel. The four of us trudged along in a single file stepping on the exact footprints of some braveheart, who had walked on the fresh snow before us that morning. Full of excitement, I initially didn’t notice the steep slope on our right past the first bend.

“A little ahead on the ridge we’ll be able to see both sides of the valley, try not looking down till then,” called out my husband, sensing my unease.

The view from the ridge at the end of the trail was sublime. Thick snow glistening in the morning sun, pristine slopes, clear blue skies, a tiny peak of colorful homes nestled on the mountains on the opposite side, the soothing sounds of nature. We were speechless…and immobile! We just stood there for a long time, taking it all in, awestruck by the beauty.

“I’ll take the lead back, just let me turn and pass by all of you,” announced my husband.

“Where’s the space to pass by?” I objected, balancing precariously on the icy snow.

“Keep standing and just breathe,” he comforted me.

If I thought getting to the ridge was tough, I had it coming on the return. Balancing downhill on a slippery path was far more challenging. Thank God for our sturdy boots. All of a sudden, WHOOSH! Slid my daughter and sat down abruptly. Her blue jeans leaving an indigo dye on the cloud-like white snow. My legs froze and I felt my sugar drop.

“I’ll help you up, don’t worry you’re ok. “

“You can do it, we’re not that far from the hotel.” Urged both men.

Breathing in…we treaded ahead lightly.

On our return, exhilarated with the feeling of conquering the trail, we made snow angels, clicked a thousand pictures and had a great (nervous) laugh.

The Dip

After the snow, the highlight [and much needed after our adrenaline pumping walk] for me was the hotel’s outdoor Jacuzzi. Perched on the lush white slopes, situated outside the indoor-heated pool area, the hot-tub beckoned us. We dashed from the glass door leaving the warmth of the indoors, the cold air biting us as we submerged ourselves into the steaming hot water.

“This is divine!”

“Doesn’t get better than this”

“It’s snowing!” Gushed my daughter, opening her arms, and facing heavenward.

“Apparently it does around here.” I smiled.

“Wow, what luck!”

We were witnessing the best of both – Mankind and God. The oh so hot water of the man-made jacuzzi while Bollywood’s greatest serenaded us on my son’s speakers, and the majesty of the Himalayas, while the heavens sent those marshmallow like white flakes onto our heads. I didn’t know whether I should close my eyes and feel the alignment through nature with God, or open my eyes and take in the view of the snow-capped mountains and valleys while I dipped in hot water.

I did both.

What we also did, was dive into the snow, ‘Harry Kane’ style and then jump back into the jacuzzi! Many times.     

Picture and Video Credit: Self




SPLASH! Into the refreshing, cleaner than expected, cool water of the Ganges on the banks of Bithoor, Kanpur.

“Here we come!”

“Slow down, the last steps are slimy.”

“Careful kids!”


It is said that a dip in this holy river rids one of their sins.  I’m sure that dips and salutations offered by the whole family (all 3 of the generations) together must definitely count for bonus points up there!

“Girls, the gated stairwell is ready for you to change,” hollered my brother.

“Round up girls, let’s go in, in twos.”

“Mom!!! these stairs lead up to an open-air courtyard!!” squealed my daughter.

Well, that was that.  On the rugged ghats of Bithoor, also the home of Lord Brahma’s (the creator of the world) temple, on a balmy April day we offered prayers to mother Ganga and enjoyed the cool dip. It was a very serene setting this, the banks had a very rustic charm.  Although the hullabaloo of people was there, it wasn’t as crowded or noisy as the usual Indian religious cities. The river was set off with lush trees on both sides, colorful homes with heavy wooden doors and thick brass links, and of course the huge steps on the banks which lead into the river. It felt more like a picnic than a pilgrimage. And to top it all off, the one announcement that all of us had been waiting for all morning . . . “The Papdi with aloo saag and hot jalebis with dahi are here!”




“Slow down, don’t fall!”

“Watch out for the rocks and pebbles beneath.”

Those warnings were a blur, as the brilliant blue-green water sparkling almost to gem-stone perfection beckoned me. SPLASH!

Well, the star cast for this adventure was the same as it had been two summers ago in Bithoor.  The location however was a world apart.  What?. . . it really was.

Did you think that this lot of 15 went only on pilgrimages?  This trip was anything but.  However, ensconced in all directions by the eye-catching beauty of Mykonos Island, I did say a quick thank you looking up at the powder blue and candy fluff sky.  The beach club at Super Paradise seemed straight out of a travel show.  The weather was just perfect for a fun day at the beach. The music was amping up with every song, the crowd had a very chilled out and groovy vibe.  People were enjoying everything, from swimming to dancing to napping away any thought, that might intrude on this splendid setting.

“Where’s Mom, she’ll love this water!” I shouted in the direction of my sister.

“Still recovering somewhere from the car ride here, either that or the party and the lightly clad revellers are too hot for her, ” she laughed, winking at me, while building a not so perfect sand castle with our nephew.

“We have the 3 best drivers money can’t buy, what’s to worry?”

“I think that it was the steep incline.”

“I think that our beloved chauffeurs actually saved the day.”

“Did some one just call me a chauffeur?” asked my brother feigning hurt.

Mykonos is a gorgeous Greek Island surrounded by the Aegean blue of the Aegean Sea.  The snow-white buildings adorned with sprinkles of magenta bougainvillea and colorful shutters line the meandering streets. Most of the pretty town looks fake, almost like a movie set, but then the fresh aromas wafting from a local bakery or a peep from a grandma, drying her clothes on a brightly colored balcony reminds one that these strawberries and cream huddles are very much real.  The cobbled streets of old town and the colorful shops and cafes of Matoyianni Street are fun to explore.  The famed white Mykonos Windmills, which are perched on a rocky landscape are every bit as picture-worthy as they are known to be.

Most of the roads however are steep slopes, many seemingly with almost 60-degree inclines. That’s where our tiny zip cars (3 of them as we were 15 of us) needed a lot of tenacity and skill from our drivers, our doting men of the family.

“We should probably start packing up.”

“Maa, the party is just starting!” I pointed out.

“Exactly! The kids are here too and it’s a very colorful beach!”

This ignited peels of laughter from all of us, Dad in particular, “If they can chill in the Ganges with me, they can and will enjoy in Mykonos with me.”

image (1)image


pictures courtesy;,,

“…And The Party Begins in Mumbai!”

“We’re so late!”

“No, we are not.”

“I warned you about the traffic.”

“We’ll be fine, relax.”

“I told you we should’ve left earlier!”

“You’re just nervous, we’ll be in the box before the toss, promise.”

Thus continued my rant(of which I am not particularly proud, to say the least) all the way to the Wankhede Stadium. You see, on April 2nd, 2011 all roads led to one place, and place only……to the venue of the ICC Cricket World Cup Final in Mumbai. Millions of eager fans world-over were ready to watch this ultimate game on screen, at home, in bars, outside store windows, anywhere that they could catch a glimpse of this match.

Since we’re in the warm up to the upcoming ICC World Cup 2019, I had to reminisce about my trip to the hottest and most coveted seat of that glorious day in 2011.

Inside the stadium which was filled to its capacity with 42,000 pumped-up spectators, I couldn’t hear a thing, and apparently neither could the match referee. He made MS Dhoni (our legendary Indian Captain) toss the coin twice, which led to a lot of confusion.

“Is he serious?”

“Dhoni said he wanted to bat first, and then he makes him toss again?”

“This can’t be a good omen!”

The Sri Lankan captain eventually won the toss on the second attempt and decided to bat first. They scored a decent 274.

“You wanna grab a bite? The spread looks amazing,” offered my husband in the innings break.

“I couldn’t get a morsel in, even if I wanted to.”

“If the first wicket holds for 15 overs, we win!” predicted a cousin.

“They need to get a blazing start, then build it from there,” countered my other cousin.

Live commentary and fervent discussions were on amongst all our family who were watching this spectacle together there.

When our first wicket fell, I swear you could hear even a pin drop. And I immediately fled from the box (which now, felt like a box of nervousness) and paced the empty hallways outside, chanting. My heart summersaulted with every reaction from the crowd.

I can’t believe I missed going to the temple today. Today of all days. Wait. Am I speaking to myself? BREATHE….in….out…in….out

Oooooooh….followed by a long silence!

This can’t be good!

NOOOO, another wicket!


I should return home….

Wait, the tickets were too hard to get, no way, I’m not going anywhere.

More pacing. More praying.

“Hey come on in. It’ll be okay, we still have a few players left.”

“No no I can’t watch it, Let me be, please,” I urged

And so continued the game inside and me pacing, playing guessing games, trying to gauge the crowd’s reaction while praying. After some time and the fall of yet another wicket, I heard the one name that had me halting mid step. I rushed in, not wanting to miss a single glimpse of my favourite sportsman in the whole world, MS Dhoni.

“He promoted himself up the order?!”

“Looks like it.”

We couldn’t hear a word over the cheering crowd. “DHONI! DHONI! DHONI!” continued the chanting. If I thought I was the only Dhoni fanatic, I was so wrong. Yet, the obvious edginess was palpable all over the stadium. Cricket is a team sport where every player has a role to play, but for me in this mayhem (or on any other day actually) MS Dhoni was the man. His calm and collected composure was good enough to soothe my fraying nerves. Today it was temporary though, as the game of cricket isn’t over till it’s over, and Sri Lanka had a strong bowling attack, so this match could go either way.

Pray. Pray. Pray.

Win! Win! Win!

God answered my prayers in the form of MS Dhoni. Who can forget the SIX that he smashed, which won us the match and the world cup. Dhoni salute! Team India Salute! And then the celebrations started. Emotional, crazy, loud, beautiful, glorious celebrations.

“I knew Dhoni would win it for us. DHONI! DHONI! DHONI!”

“We probably won because of all your praying and patrolling the hallways.” teased my husband, wiping my wet cheeks.

“You never know.” I gloated.

“You should’ve just paced in the temple you missed going to today. You made me work so hard for these impossible to get tickets and barely even watched the game.”

Indian captain Mahendra Singh Dhoni (L)

picture credits: Getty images and zimbio

Welcome to St. Tropez



I think it’s time for some glamour, some flair, something out of a movie fantasy. What do you say?

Let’s kick off with St. Tropez! Does it fit the bill?

Our group of five couples landed in Nice on a beautiful summer morning. We had been told to pack for a week, to bring with us resort-wear and party-wear, heels, flip-flops and loafers, hats and sunglasses, play lists and fun stories.  The rest was a surprise for us.

“Where do you think we’re off to?” a near shriek from my excited friend, as we rolled out from the airport in over-sized luxury vans.

“I’m guessing the French Riviera.”

“Monaco!” gushed my other friend.

All this while our darling host sat smiling across from us. Rather quickly, our cars entered a small compound and halted in front of two gleaming choppers. Our doors slid open and a host with dark Ray-Bans greeted and ushured us onto the waiting choppers.

The combined energy of our excitement was probably enough to propel the helicopters as we took off and our Captain explained to us the scenic route that we would take to reach our destination -‘St. Tropez’. And so we started our magical trip in true 007 style. We flew over the gorgeous coast-line oohing and aahing en-route St. Tropez.

Our first stop was the magnificent view and refreshments at ‘Hotel Villa Belle Rose’ which is set atop a hill that overlooks all of St.Tropez. We then strolled around the port enjoying gelatos from the world-renowned ‘Barbarac’, clicking pictures of the luxury yachts that bobbed up and down putting up a spectacular show for us.

One moment we were debating on whose gelato flavor was the best and the next moment we were being whisked onto small speed-boats (called tender rides) as we glided into the turquoise waters.

My love for travel is familiar to you all by now, and I’m always awestruck by the beauty, the diversity, and the energy that the world has to offer. But believe me when I say this, that a collective jaw-drop would have made for a fine picture as we reached our ‘surprise’. I was and still am a little tongue-tied about it. We were welcomed like royalty by a staff of around twenty, queued up to greet us aboard ‘Numptia’, a luxury super yacht (70 meters and 5 floors). This was way bigger and shinier than any that we had clicked pictures with, just a few moments ago.

That feeling of WOW will never leave me. Standing aboard this disarming beauty with the cool sea-breeze in my hair, the bluest water all around, the picturesque port of St. Tropez on one side and a cloudless horizon on the other, I was astounded. It was a magic so pure that even a gifted writer couldn’t have imagined it. The spark of joy that conjured up within me was simply blissful.

“Let me give you a trip around your home for the coming week,” announced our Captain with obvious pride in his voice.

The spangly ‘Numptia’ consisted of the main deck, the sun-deck, a formal living area, an informal indoor sitting area with karaoke, games and more. A formal dining room, an outdoor dining area, many lounge seatings around the decks, a pool and jacuzzi on the top floor, a gym, a steam room, a beauty salon,  endless water-sports equipment (or ‘toys’ as our Captain liked to call them) like jet skies, banana boats and sea-bobs, and our beautifully decorated bedrooms of course. All of this, just for the 10 of us to enjoy.

“Did you see the control room or cockpit?” asked one of the guys.

“The controls and displays look super sophisticated and high-tech, just like a sci-fi movie.”

“Hey guys, look ahead… the ‘Titanic’ pose is underway.”

All eyes turned towards the front followed by peals of laughter, but I know it couldn’t be helped. This was all too stunning, just like a movie, except that it was for real, and we were living it. To our delight, our luggage was unpacked for us by the extremely caring and meticulous staff.  Our clothes were ironed and hung, our shoes and bags assembled, even before we finished our tour of the boat and reached our rooms. This was some serious pampering.

That day we had lunch at the world famous ‘Club 55’. The beach, music and crowd there were amazing. Dancing and merry conversations were the order of the day.

“Are these real vegetables?” Inquired my darling husband, looking at the assortment of baby vegetables served before us.

“The display does kind of trick you, but here…. you can eat these.” Offered one of our friends as she nibbled on a baby fennel leaf.

To this day my husband recounts the names of the baby veggies that he had tried there for the first time.

We then moved onto the swanky, chilled out ‘Nikki Beach’.  Dinner that night was at ‘Villa Romania’. Just as the name suggests this place had the aura of  a roman villa, replete with marble sculptures, green vines, lush floral displays and a fun vibe. The music here was sublime. Desserts were devoured with some dancing at ‘Babylon’ and then to top it all off was perhaps one of the best party scenes in St. Tropez at ‘Spoon’.  As luck would have it, Europe’s top DJ was in the house that night and he truly ‘welcomed us to St. Tropez’ at this wild party.

Hours later, “Should we head home?”

“Aren’t you ladies tired?”

“We should definitely get back on board. But fatigue has nothing to do with it.”

“Is everything okay?”  All eyes were on me now.

“Yes, Yes, all good. It’s just that the stars are expecting us. I hear they too have put up a great show for us. And the viewing tonight as we lift anchor is from the top deck.”

picture credit; self

Red Sarees and White Tigers

Just imagine… a big fat Indian wedding in an exotic destination.  Now imagine… the lush green Chiang Mai (Thailand) under an umbrella of hundreds of Chinese lanterns soaring high above 300 or so mesmerized guests.  The glow from these lanterns lit up the night sky to a dancing orange hue.  Pretty picture isn’t it?

The wedding was replete with a musical evening of family performances, Dandiya, after parties, lazy brunches followed by a grand baraat.

“Did you see the flowers by the fountain this morning?” asked my dearest friend.

“I did, but for the love of me, I can’t imagine naming them.”

“Can’t wait to see tomorrow’s decor.”

“I can’t wait to eat the exotic fruits,” added another friend.

“I heard that the garden venue for the wedding tomorrow night is exquisite.”

After 2 days of partying and getting pampered, the night of the actual wedding was a solemn and beautiful affair. The bride and groom dressed to the T, seemed almost divine with the famed Thai flora serving as the perfect backdrop.

“It’s going to be another 2 hours, we’re getting out of here,” announced my friend.

“Are you sure, won’t we be missed?”

“Look around, everyone’s so involved. Let’s take our chance.”

And so the 8(4 couples) of us, packed into one of the over-sized luxury vans and left the dazzling wedding.

When I think about it today, it seems like such an unusual choice that we made that night. But we did.  Dressed in our finest silks and Zegnas, laden with emeralds and rubies, floating on our Pradas and Jimmies, we entered the Chiang Mai Night Safari.

“Oh God, everyone’s staring at us!”

“The animals will be happy to see glammed up visitors, c’mon stop thinking and live in the moment,” exclaimed the most enthusiastic of my friends.

Well, watching these magnificent beasts is always exhilarating. Add to it, the element of night time and the whole spectacle gets a horror-movie effect.  The low grumble of the animals, their glowing eyes, the nip in the cool forest air, in short it was absolutely thrilling.

“Let’s go feed the white tiger cubs.”

“Count me out,” said one.

“A no from me too,” added another.

Sensing my hesitance, my husband nudged me forward, pushing the small of my back, “We’re in it together, don’t worry.”

So, in two groups of three each, we literally entered the tigers lair.  I was terrified to say the least. Transfixed by the cub’s bewitching eyes my reluctant feet moved of their own accord towards it. It seemed as if the cub and I shared a common secret.  The majestic beast with snow-white fur had enraptured me.  We were so close, that I could see the scarlet of my saree reflecting in his eyes.

And then….

My friend winked at me as he made his bone-chilling revelation that made my blood run cold.

“You know that tigers pounce on red, right?”

picture credit; Atoms photography

Wait! Where Did The Water Go?


“Do you work for Microsoft?”

Turning around I smiled at the red-cheeked old lady.

“Me? Nah.”

“My apologies for assuming, it was your bags.  I thought you were returning home.”

I could feel, more than see the rolling of my husband’s eyes.

“We don’t travel light, do we? We are here just for a short holiday actually.” I replied smiling at her angelic face.

That really shocked her.  Taking our bags off the belt, we left, bidding the plump, rosy, old lady a farewell.

It hit me later that our being an Indian family must have sparked the thought in her.  After all, Seattle is the hub for Microsoft (where we Indians tend to thrive) and is not really known as a vacation hot-spot.

But our quest for the perfect waterfront  log-cabin had brought us all the way here.

Now on interstate 5, our family of five, was on our way to our travel destination, Alderbrook.

“That’s Mount Rainier, guys!”.


“The snow cap looks manufactured”

“Slow down, I’m trying to click a picture.”

“Argh! My lemonade spilt!”

And so it continued. The rest of our one and half our drive was enjoyable.  Great music, chitchatting, munching on goodies and the picturesque scenery kept us merry….and before we knew it, we were heading into the drive-way of the Alderbrook resort.  Lush greenery followed by a huge log-cabin/cottage welcomed us.  It’s rustic charm and warm ambience soothed our jet-lag.  Two furry, fluffy cats lazed on the rugs by the fire-place opposite the reception area. Instantly, I found myself in need of a warm blanket and a nap.  My longing must have reflected on my face, because the sweet receptionist approached me, “That’s Alder and that’s Brooke.”

“They look so relaxed, all they need is a book and hot chocolate.”  I joked.

Smiling, she said, “Let me show you to your cottage, I’m sure you’ll find it to your liking.”

On one side of the water-front property were the rooms and suites surrounding the pool area. The golf course was situated at the mountain top, the lush green lawns overlooked the cinematic view. Rabbits hoped across as we walked through the beautiful gardens towards our cottage. Our three-bedroom private cottage sat at the corner, on the board-walk.  It was a beautiful sight.  City life seemed like a faraway thing for now. Our charming cottage had a porch with a swing, a living area with a fire-place (in which already bloomed a crackling fire) and best of all, a small library.  All the ingredients for a perfect relaxing get-away!  Throws, pillows and rugs were scattered thoughtfully all over, inviting as well as enticing us for a nap, a read, a cuddle.

There was just one thing playing on my mind; how to keep my youngest from falling off the porch and into the water.

“Welcome to your home for the next few days, we are at your service should you need anything,” offered the Receptionist.

All I remember after that was testing the over-sized recliner in the living room and sinking into its soothing softness. I sighed in bliss and closed my eyes for just a second.

I woke up to the sound of loud chirping.  From my vantage point, through the window, I could see the morning rise over the lake, centuries old pine trees dotted the shoreline.  Was I dreaming?  My sore neck reminded me to get up and I knew that this magical vision was real.  This is the reason we had travelled all the way from home, for this pristine, untouched beauty of a sight.  Grabbing my phone for an undisturbed picture, I unlocked the door and walked out on the porch.  I don’t know how, but I managed to trip on the wooden porch-floor and SWISH…. my phone soared from my hand  and into the lake.

Oh no! My heart started racing.  Walking up behind me, my husband sleepily asked me, ”What’s wrong?”

Turning awkwardly, I replied, “My phone is gone.”


“In the lake! I didn’t even hear a splash, it’s just gone.”


“I was just trying to capture the heavenly sunrise over the mountains and lake.”


“It’s not funny, I was still in my sleep.  I don’t know how I slipped.”


“That’s enough! This isn’t amusing. My camera, music, data are all gone for the rest of the holiday.”  I wallowed in self-pity.

“Look behind.” Still laughing, he naughtily nudged me.

So, I did, looked behind and below.

“Wait! What? The lake disappeared? I was tired, I know, but surely I saw the water hit the porch last evening.”

“Of-course you did.”


“It’s a Fjord (a long and narrow winding inlet of the sea between high cliffs) not a lake.”

“Oh! I thought only Norway has Fjords.”

“We are on a Fjord at Hood-Canal right  now.  It was high-tide when we came in last evening and since its low-tide now, your phone has landed safely on the soft marsh below.”

“Oh, lucky me.”

“Grab your shoes, let’s walk on the shore-line while the tide is low.”

“And let’s get  my phone to finally get those amazing shots.”


pictures credit: self; child number 3


Can one expect similar outcomes when traveling on the same trip to Iskcon as well as Ibiza?  Well, I didn’t!  However, I’ll let you be the judge of it.

A few years ago, we were very fortunate to celebrate the festival of  ‘Janmashtami’, Lord Krishna’s birthday, at the ‘Bhaktivedanta Manor’ in Watford, London.  This beautiful, lush property spread across acres was a gift by the legendary George Harrison (think The Beatles, think also the song, ‘My Sweet Lord’ ‘Hare Krishna’).

For the festivities, the foregrounds of the manor were transformed into a ‘Mela’ (fair).  Around sixty thousand devotees cooked and cleaned, served and enjoyed, chanted and celebrated the Lord’s birthday with great gusto.  Radhanath Swamiji (The Head Saint) himself was present there for the celebrations and with great affection, showed our group of twelve, around the ‘Lord’s Manor’.

Post a hearty Prasadam dinner we moved onto the Soho Street Iskcon in London. As midnight approached, the energy levels there were sky-rocketing.  Along with hundreds of devotees we danced and chanted ‘Hare Krishna’ in unison on the street.  Soho Street, usually a pub hub, was awash with jumping, joyful souls that night.  Their joy in celebrating the Lord’s birthday was palpable.  It was a magical night and to this day I can feel the vibrations of our collective ‘Dance of Joy’.

Late the next morning, the ten of us from Mumbai and our very dear hosts from London flew to Ibiza.  Yes, we celebrated ‘Janmashtami’ in London and then moved on to celebrate ‘Life’ in Ibiza.  The stunning view when landing on this Balearic Island is simply divine.  The crystal blue of the water was tantalizing me to jump right off the plane and take a dip! That would have to wait for now though. We were buzzing with excitement to explore all the items on our packed itinerary. Partying till the early hours of the morning with our Krishna the previous night had already set our body-clocks on late night mode, but Ibiza runs on a time-zone of its own. We danced all night at ‘Amnesia’,  post a superb meal at ‘Tentazione Ristorante’ until 5 am.  Through the days, we went by private boat (dancing!) to the picturesque and buzzing ‘Blue Marlin’ in Formentera, and to ‘Juan Y Andrea’, where we bumped into and clicked pictures with tennis legend Boris Becker.  Also, through our trip we enjoyed at ‘Malibu’ for day parties, ‘Sa Capella’ in San Antonio, the famous ‘Lio’ and many more hotspots.

The highlight of our trip, however, was on our last evening. We started by enjoying fresh brick-oven pizzas in the old village and then walked around.  Suddenly, we found ourselves ensconced in a hippy-parade!  For the second time within the span of a week, we were dancing on the streets amidst throngs of revelers.  The energy here too was pulsating.  This night was ‘flower-power’ night in all of Ibiza.  Absolutely everyone including us, was dressed to the theme.

From there we moved on to ‘Pacha’, the most awaited venue of all.  Our large group was ushered to a VIP table.  The decibel levels here were deafening.  The crowd and the DJ were a perfect match to each other, one ousting the others performances. What an atmosphere! Sometime in the next few hours, I sensed a shift in the mood. A changing of gears, which was apparent in the lighting, the music, even amidst the dancing crowds.  Out of nowhere, or rather, out of the haze created by smoke, we saw a parade of gorgeously over-decked performers emerge carrying a palanquin. Some remixed version of George Harrison’s ‘My Sweet Lord – Hare Krishna’ started blaring.

Lo and Behold, on the palanquin of gold and peacock feathers was a man dripped in mid-night blue from head to toe, dressed as the ‘Lord Krishna’ himself.  I got goose bumps.  Was I dreaming of Janmashtami?  Was this for real?  The energy levels now escalated to an unmatched crescendo. We were all swept up in the moment. There, in the greatest Night-Club in all of Europe, I swayed stunned, mesmerized, joyful, feeling one with the Lord. ‘My Sweet Lord’ ‘Hare Krishna’ everyone!!

picture credit;

My Upside-Down Road Trip: Down Under

Have you ever felt like you were a part of a family holiday movie?  The one where your well-planned itinerary falls apart and you end up on an unforgettable adventure?  Well, I have. Let me take you on this crazy road trip with me.

First off, let it be said that had it been up to me, this day would have been spent ensconced in the pampered luxury of our hotel, followed by shopping on Collins street.  This trip could have been taken on any other day.  Alas! I lost the vote 1 to 4 in my family of five.  All four of them had everything planned, from foot thumping chart-busters, to snacks, to the exact route we would take for our three-hour long drive from Melbourne to the `Twelve Apostles’.

We were so engrossed in matching our vocals with Bruno`s (Mars) that when the signs over-head read ‘Scenic Route: Twelve Apostles’, it seemed like the obvious exit to take.  The navigator’s warnings for staying on it’s suggested route were drowned out by our singing, and we soon hit the ocean.  This view was unparalleled.  Witnessing the skies and ocean, merging and mingling, we were tantalized by its beauty.  Driving along the ‘Great Ocean Road’, the singing and “oohs” and “aahs” grew louder, the mood grew so buoyant, that the forty minute increase on our ETA seemed like a blip on the screen.

“Look surfers,” pointed my middle child.

“Woah! Those waves are super high!” said my youngest.

“Let`s lay a bet on who can stay on longest?” challenged my eldest.



“Break time guys,” I decided.

We took a coffee break, enjoyed a local play-area`s swings and slides and got back on the road.

The signs were there.

The signs were literally there.  But packed on adrenaline and witnessing such a beautiful sight, in the best of company, we paid no heed whatsoever to all the orange ‘Detour Ahead’ signs.  So, it was only natural to turn right as the road diverted a little away from the ocean.  Five minutes into this uphill drive we entered a verdant, foggy, foresty area and sure enough, our GPS couldn’t recalculate.

“Check out the route on Google Maps,” said my husband, driving into the now dense mountains.

“Already on it, it says two more hours,” answered my son.

The stunning atmosphere kept us hooked on despite the obvious delay.  The road signs became infrequent and the GPS died down completely.

“Should we turn around?” was the general question.

“It will take the same time if we turn around now, so let’s just go with the flow,” my husband decided.

It now seemed that in a span of half-an-hour we had reached the most beautiful rain-forest, unlike any I had seen before.  The tree-tops were tall and dense, the flora exquisite and multi-dimensional.  The mumbling, munching and napping were now under way on the backseat. All of our feelings were back and forth between enjoying the surroundings and getting anxious about our whereabouts. We came upon a small clearing, and lo!


“Stop the car.”

“Seems like they are following us, yayy!”

“Aww, they’re too cute.”

“Look, look they’re smiling.”

We clicked a few pictures from the safety of our car and just like that we were back in the groove again.

“Take a right after 1.8 miles,” instructed ‘Tom-Tom’, our GPS, finally.

“Thank God! She’s alive again.”

Now, well into the mountains, we were resigned to the fact that we were going to take much, much longer than anticipated. As though the playlist could sense our somber mood, slow romantic songs started playing. Road signs just ahead showed ‘Restrooms’, ‘Zipline Centres’ and ‘Cape Otway Light Station’.  Guess which one we chose to take?

An hour into the next decision and we finally entered the ‘Cape Otway Light Station’.  Hungry, anxious, desperate to use the restrooms and nowhere close to the Twelve Apostles we got out of our car and stretched.  It was COLD.  And WINDY. And as if on cue it started to RAIN. Add to that, the area was to shut in half-an-hour.  But after a hundred meter walk inside, we were astounded.  Bellowing winds and the wild Pacific Ocean waves crushed the cliff on which the lighthouse stood.  We could barely hear each other over the high octane orchestra played by the elements and were too stunned by the unexpected and unforgettable sight. The light-house itself was mighty tall, battling the unobstructed high winds of the Pacific.

Either we were famished, or the fresh scones and jelly were too delicious, we gorged on them while watching this crazy sight from the warmth of the tiny in-house café post our visit.

“Quick, let’s leave. Its another hour from here,” said my husband enthusiastically.

“We won’t make it in daylight,” I lamented, resigned to our fate.

“We have come this far, let’s give it a try at least. Tell me truthfully, wasn’t this sight worth a stop?”

“It was amazing actually.” I agreed.

All of us now a little numb from the cold wind, the post-adrenaline rush and the long-long drive sat quietly as ‘Tom-Tom’ guided us towards the Apostles.  We were racing the sun. It seemed like we would make it and we took the road in to the town that would take us back onto the ‘Great Ocean Road’.  It was just our luck today that a local marathon was wrapping up and our path was hindered yet again.  We were resigned now and tired. However, too much commitment had been assigned here, so we slowly drove in the direction of the apostles.

A pink and golden sky greeted us at the parking spot. Covering ourselves in more layers, we hurried towards the Apostles. It was a surreal moment as we got our first glimpse of the huge limestone mountain-like formations standing proud in the Pacific Ocean. One behind the other, even their placements were perfectly set up. Wave after wave pelted these giants from all four sides. We had to lean in against the crushing winds to walk forward, such was their might. The lighting for our pictures was of professional quality, as if God had set it up himself. I couldn’t get enough of this energy. The wind, the ocean and the sky (now almost magenta in hue) were casting a magical spell on all my senses. All the fatigue of the day now forgotten, I stood there mesmerized, almost in a hypnotic state. Such was the power of these wonders and the aura surrounding them.

Well, did the trip go downhill as soon as we took the scenic route? Probably. Was it predestined that the roads would be diverted, and the marathon would take place today? Seems like it. Would it have been better if we had taken Tom-Tom’s original route? NO WAY! Seeing the yogic smiles on my family’s pink faces, I say that we took the correct route. How else would we have enjoyed the simpler joys that we faced along the way? After all, Simple Things Give Pure Joy.

picture credits: self

The quest for the perfect blue

I don’t know about you but every time I plan a trip, I subconsciously associate it with something specific to that region. My mind starts conjuring up vivid images. For instance, Florida – Disney World, Australia – Kangaroos, Italy – The Riviera, Switzerland – Bollywood Duets.  And then I must either visit Mickey in his world (Disney), click a picture with said kangaroos, swim on the beaches of the Riviera Continue reading “The quest for the perfect blue”

A Melodious Night In Maui

What’s the most fun you’ve had with your friends? The story that pops right out at me is of a night, spent nearly ten years ago, on the pristine beaches of Maui – singing.

Yes, you read that right. The memory of singing the whole night with friends under a beautiful full moon is etched in my mind forever. Continue reading “A Melodious Night In Maui”