A quick hyperlapse video of the Gateway of India, while we were on a day out in Mumbai, with that cool 50-year old fellow named Manjunath Shenoy.
Some 5 years back, a few of us drove from Goa to Vengurla, a small beach side town in Sindhudurg, Maharashtra.
The Bibi ka Maqbara in Aurangabad even shares a historical connection with the Taj Mahal. While a love-sick Shah Jahan built the legendary monument of love in Agra for his wife Mumtaz Mahal, the Bibika Maqbara was built by his grandson Prince Azam Shah (Aurangazeb’s son) in memory of his mother, Rabia-ul-Daurani.
We had read about a fascinating spot called the Panchakki (Water Mill), which apparently, as its name suggests, is an ingenious structure dating back to the 17th century that uses the energy of water to grind wheat to flour! Curious enough to see how it works, we walked around 2 kilometres from our lodging, which was very close to the state transport bus stand, to get to this place.
The morning after the exhausting crater trek, we were determined to make our way to the Mota Maruthi temple. While a local insisted that we head to this temple for its magical powers — your irregular blood pressure levels would be completely cured with just a step into the temple, he claimed — we were more intrigued with the legend that the idol in the temple is an actual fragment of the meteorite itself and had magnetic properties! The locals also promised that we won’t be disappointed with another temple called Daitya Sudan, built between the 6th and 12th century AD, which is a mini replica of the famous erotic temples of Khajuraho. The surprises never cease in Lonar!
Around 60,000 years ago, Lonar, which now falls in the Buldhana district of Maharashtra, played host to a visitor from outer space.
Modern man-made structures don’t often tend to evoke much emotion from me. At most, an indifferent nod of acknowledgement when someone is trying to get me excited about shiny, mile-high skyscrapers. Each one more flashy than the other, each lacking in as much character as the other, the sum of all making what we call a megacity — a tasteless maze of concrete and crushed dreams. But as we were riding up the Western Ghats in Satara to get to Thoseghar falls, adding to the awe of the imposing hills were the man-made but magnificent windmills. We had read about these windmills being a popular pit-stop for all the roadtrippers heading out to see the waterfalls, which was just a couple of kilometres away. So, we decided to take the auto to Thoseghar from Satara and walk to the windmills from the waterfalls.
The act of flying — for all purposes, literary and metaphorical — has come to symbolise all sorts of things for us wingless humans. Flying epitomises freedom, emancipation, dreams, aspirations, courage, shedding of inhibitions, a leap of faith and every rising-above-the-moment kind of emotion. We have in fact, been fed so many of these motivational references to flying by all mediums of popculture (you know, like these sunset-tinted inspirational posters, that every time you see a bird soar in the sky against clear blue skies, your own flight of fancy takes off and a strong feeling of inspiration surges through your body.
After spending an enjoyable day at the breathtaking Kaas Plateau, not wanting to stick to the well-intentioned suggestions of everyone from friendly locals to online bloggers that the only place to stay the night nearest town Satara, we decided to take a local bus to the neighbouring village, Bamnoli.
When a foolishly last-minute plan to witness chaotic and colourful Calcutta in all its glory during Durga Pujo failed miserably (and quite expectedly, considering every single Bengali in the country was in a delirious rush to get home at the same time), we decided to settle for, what we figured would be, an easy-breezy and pleasant short journey to the Kaas Plateau.