Images of Kolkata

We arrive to the steamy heat and crowds of Kolkata from the relative quiet and definite chill of Darjeeling. Despite having some knowledge of what it would be like it’s still a startling contrast. However, we are ready for some city time before we bid a fond farewell to Mother India. Here are a few of the photographic highlights. Continue reading

Mountain Prayers


Knock, knock, knock. The bare knuckles of Robin our guide rap on the thin wooden door of our hut. It’s 5.30 in the morning and I am already awake, still in bed and watching the sky through the flimsy curtains pinken and blush as it gets ready to embrace the sun. From the toasty warmth of my sleeping bag I gingerly extricate an arm to test the temperature … it is icy cold. Continue reading

As It Is, So It Is

The silence in the hall is almost palpable. I breathe in and breathe out imagining my breath is a soothing balm easing my tiredness and frayed nerves. The physicality of the ground and the meditation stool beneath me are reassuringly supportive as too is the silence which acts as a comfortable, comforting cushion of air I can lean in to. Thirty other souls are here too, sitting, breathing, being. Nothing to do and nowhere to go, just sharing a silent space. Continue reading

Indigestible India

I feel sore, full and tired. It’s like heart burn throughout my whole system. I have over eaten at the buffet of India! So much stimulation from the incessant noise, the volume of people and pollution. All my senses, my personal space, my dignity, my tolerance, my values have been challenged day after day. Sometimes these challenges lift me, I feel expanded and content. At other times I feel beaten and bruised and weary at the thought of having to step back in to the ring. Continue reading

Riverside Rest

We were in need of a break.  A few days to pause and rest, ideally in a place with some space, greenery and please … a bit of quiet.  Ideals don’t always exist in India and the images that I create in my mind from reading travel guides do not always match the reality.  But on this occasion the description of Orchha fulfilled the hopes I had harboured.  A mediaeval city, with a magical tiered palace, soaring temple spires and grand sandstone cenotaphs.  A wide boulder strewn river, green fields and refeshingly clean air.  An India I had yearned for but feared did not exist. Continue reading