It’s only when we reached the city of Kazan, our second stop on the Trans Siberian journey, that we were reminded of the Asia in Russia.
That urging need to ‘get away’ constantly has given way to a peaceful sense of exploration and a feeling of gratitude for an everyday life that we actually don’t want to escape from
On most evenings, when we head out exploring our surroundings, we bump into friendly stray dogs. Me being the dog whisperer that I am, I tell the dogs to go to Priya – where they get a few minutes of love and affection. Here is one nice fellow who followed us around the river at Amona.
An aerial view (of some sorts) of the Church of St. Cajetan, shot from the Capela da Nossa Senhora do Monte.
Of friends who are family. Conversations that never end. Of setting suns and endless laughter. Of joy in the simple things. Of loving and living in a crowded city that has old corners and hidden stories if you know where to look. Sankranti, 13th January, 2013 with the Ramachandrans. And one D’souza.
If I had to sum up Old Goa in all its glory in one single picture, I’d take you to the the Capela da Nossa Senhora do Monte. The Chapel of Our Lady of the Monte, as its name suggests, is perched prettily atop a hillock in Old Goa, which overlooks the gorgeousness of our beautiful neigbourhood. Once you climb up that steep hill, making your way up the magnificent stone steps that leads to the chapel, the view that greets you is breathtaking.
Travelling around India over the past few years, gave me the opportunity to witness a ton of sunsets. A bunch of sunrises too, but then you know how lazy I could get sometimes, especially when I have to wake up early in the morning. I’ve wintnessed sunsets at Jammu & Kashmir, Kanyakumari, Arunachal Pradesh and Goa. That basically takes care of North, South, East and West. Okay, maybe I need to witness a sunset at Gujarat, then I would be able to tick off the Extreme West. Bottom line is, I’ve seen a ton of sunsets, and I’ve put them all here for your viewing pleasure, in no particular order, with a short snippet of each evening.
She sits down. Feet crossed, palms on her thighs. He stood beside the seat, looking down on her petite form, thinking how she looked like a tiny, injured bird. Graceful, fragile and troubled. He wanted to pick up all the broken parts of her and sew it together.
The Jama Masjid, at Old Delhi, during dusk.
While the sunset was a spectacle and the waves put up a dramatic display of their own, what caught our eyes on that beautiful night in Kanyakumari was the lighthouse, standing tall and lonely above the sacred city, showing its beacons of light to the men at sea.