Many versus in poetry and references in literature had led me to believe that winter is probably the most desolate and monochromatic season. Between Virginia Woolf’s ‘Melancholy were the sounds on a winter’s night’ and PB Shelley’s ‘If winter comes, can spring be far behind?’ I was convinced that winter was made of sorrow and…
Very many hours of my waking life are spent staring at India’s map. I think it comes closest to meditation for me! On a serious note, every Spring I spend some time picking my mountain region of the year. Last year, I was basking in Uttarakhand’s chrome sunshine. But where will the roads take me…
