North East Diaries

A journey through places, people, food and unforgettable moments — 

captured in photographs, lived on the road, and remembered through stories.

9500+ km across North East India with My Banjarun

States Covered:

 * Odisha

 * West Bengal

* Assam

* Meghalaya

* Tripura

* Mizoram

* Manipur

* Nagaland

* Arunachal Pradesh

* Sikkim

Travel Stories, Routes, Budgets, Food Trails and Motorcycle Diaries from the journey.

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📍 Two Friends, Ziro Valley, Arunachal Pradesh

👵 A Friendship Older Than Memory

"Some friendships become so old that even the people living them can no longer remember where they began.

Through a local interpreter, we spent a little time talking with these two elderly women. They smiled more than they spoke. When asked about their traditional ornaments and nose plugs, they gently laughed and explained that they had worn them for so long that they could no longer remember when the tradition had become a part of their lives. It had simply always been there.

Sitting outside their wooden home, surrounded by firewood stacked for the coming season, they reminded me that tradition isn't something kept inside museums. It quietly survives in everyday conversations, lifelong friendships, and the ordinary moments shared on a village doorstep.

Sometimes, history doesn't live in books... it sits on a small wooden chair, smiling beside an old friend."

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📍 An Apatani Home, Ziro Valley, Arunachal Pradesh

🏡 Where Simplicity Still Feels Complete

"Stepping into their home felt like stepping into another rhythm of life. They didn't speak much, yet the silence between them carried years of understanding that words could never explain.

Their entire home was built around a single room. At the heart of it was the traditional kitchen, where every evening they gathered around the fire—not only to cook, but to share the day's quiet moments. That same fire gently warmed the entire house through the cold mountain nights, and its soft crackling became the last sound before sleep.

Behind the house stood the forest. In front, a simple bamboo courtyard. There was no rush, no unnecessary noise—only a life shaped by nature, routine, and quiet contentment.

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📍 Traditional Tools of an Apatani Home, Ziro Valley, Arunachal Pradesh

🪓 One Tool, A Lifetime of Skills

"Hanging quietly on the bamboo wall were the tools that had served this family for generations. In the hills of Arunachal Pradesh, a single traditional dao—a multipurpose tribal blade—is far more than just a weapon. It accompanies people into the forests, helps collect firewood, clears fields, prepares bamboo, carves household items, and protects its owner whenever the wilderness demands it.

What impressed me most wasn't the tool itself, but the craftsmanship behind it. The same hands that carry a dao into the forest can also transform bamboo and wood into baskets, utensils, farming equipment, and everyday essentials. Very little is wasted here; nature provides, and generations of knowledge turn it into a way of life.

In these mountains, survival has never depended on owning more—it has depended on knowing how to use what you already have."

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📍 A Kind Stranger Who Became Family, Ziro Valley, Arunachal Pradesh

🤍 Sometimes, the Best Guides Are Never Guides

"We had been wandering through the villages of Ziro, searching for elderly Apatani women who still carried the traditional facial tattoos and nose plugs. Most people simply smiled and pointed us in another direction. Then we met her.

Before answering a single question, she invited us into her home, offered us tea, and welcomed us as if we had been expected all along. When we explained why we had travelled so far, she quietly changed into her traditional attire so we could understand and photograph her culture with respect.

She had raised her children on her own, yet there was no trace of bitterness in her smile. Instead, there was quiet strength. One of her sons even spent hours taking us around on his scooter, introducing us to local families, translating conversations, and helping us understand the traditions of the Apatani people.

They may not have measured their wealth in money, but they were among the richest people I met on this journey. Their generosity reminded me that the warmest welcome often comes from the simplest homes, and that the greatest luxury a traveller can receive is genuine human kindness."

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📍 Myoko Festival, Ziro Valley, Arunachal Pradesh

🎉 Some Festivals Never Really End

"When I arrived in Ziro, the valley was celebrating the beautiful Myoko Festival—one of the most important festivals of the Apatani people. More than a celebration, Myoko is a tradition of friendship, trust, and lifelong relationships. Every year, different villages take turns hosting one another, opening their homes, sharing meals, exchanging stories, and strengthening bonds that have existed for generations.

Standing beneath this gate, I realised that some places don't just become destinations—they quietly become a part of who you are.

Just like a few people in life whom you can never truly leave behind, certain journeys continue flowing through your memories long after they are over. They stay with you like blood running through your veins—always moving, always alive. A single photograph, a familiar song, or even the smell of rain is enough to bring them back.

For me, Ziro is one of those places. I didn't simply visit it... I carried a part of it home."

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📍 A Small Family Dhaba, Ziro Valley, Arunachal Pradesh

🥗 The Taste of Home in a Faraway Land

"Finding vegetarian food in Ziro wasn't always easy, as the local cuisine is largely non-vegetarian. Then we discovered this small family-run dhaba, started years ago by a family that had migrated from Bihar. What began as a place to eat soon became a place we looked forward to returning to every day.

The entire family worked together—the grandparents, parents, and children. Every morning we would simply ask for whatever fresh local vegetables were available, and they would prepare them with care. There was nothing extravagant on the plate—just simple dal, seasonal greens, fresh rotis, and vegetables grown in the surrounding hills. Yet every bite carried a freshness that reminded me how flavour begins long before the kitchen—with clean water, healthy soil, and honest hands.

Meals like these cannot be judged by photographs alone. They have to be experienced, one bite at a time, in the place where they belong.

Because food is never just about what is served on the plate. It is also about the people sitting around it—the conversations you share, the stories you listen to, the laughter you remember, and the quiet moments that slowly shape the person you become."

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📍 Ziro Valley Rice Fields, Arunachal Pradesh

🌾 Where Rice and Water Grow Together

"At first glance, these look like ordinary paddy fields. But in Ziro Valley, they tell a much deeper story.

The Apatani people have practised one of India's most remarkable and sustainable farming systems for generations. Instead of growing only rice, they raise fish in the same flooded fields. The fish naturally help the ecosystem while the rice provides the harvest, creating a balance that has been perfected over centuries without disturbing nature.

Standing above these fields, I wasn't just looking at agriculture—I was looking at a tradition where every drop of water has a purpose, every field supports life, and every harvest reflects generations of wisdom passed from one family to the next.

Sometimes, the greatest innovations are not found in modern laboratories... they are quietly preserved in the valleys that have respected nature for hundreds of years."

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📍 Ziro Valley Rice Fields, Arunachal Pradesh

🌾 Walking Between Water and Harvest

"Only after walking through these narrow mud paths do you realise that this is far more than a rice field. Every step is carefully shaped to guide water, protect the crop, and create space for fish to thrive alongside the paddy.

The Apatani people don't fight nature—they work with it. Water flows gently from one field to another, carrying life instead of waste. Rice and fish grow together in the same ecosystem, where each quietly supports the other.

Standing here, I couldn't help but think that balance is never created overnight. Whether in farming or in life, the strongest systems are the ones where everything grows together, not at the cost of something else."

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📍 Ziro Valley Rice Nursery, Arunachal Pradesh

🌱 Where Every Harvest First Learns to Grow

"Every great harvest begins as something small... quietly preparing for the journey ahead."

This is where the story of Ziro's famous rice fields truly begins. These young rice seedlings are first nurtured in a small nursery before being carefully transplanted into the larger flooded fields. Moving them by hand isn't just a farming technique—it's a tradition refined over generations.

Once the rice plants settle into their new home, fish are released into the same water. From that moment onward, two harvests begin growing together. The fish naturally enrich the fields while the rice flourishes above, creating one of India's most remarkable examples of sustainable farming.

Watching these tiny plants, I realised that growth often asks us to leave where we first began. Sometimes, the next chapter of life only starts after we are willing to be planted somewhere new.

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📍 Ziro Valley Rice–Fish Farming, Arunachal Pradesh

🐟 Tiny Fish, A Timeless Tradition

"Sometimes, the smallest lives carry the greatest traditions."

Once the young rice plants have been transplanted into the flooded fields, thousands of tiny fish fingerlings are carefully released into the water. In Ziro Valley, farmers commonly rear Common Carp, Grass Carp and other carp species alongside their paddy, allowing both harvests to grow together in perfect balance. 

The fish vendor I met arrived on a simple bicycle with a bucket full of fingerlings. He told me each tiny fish sold for around *₹1*, with a lower price for farmers buying in bulk. During the planting season, vendors travel from village to village delivering these fingerlings directly to the fields, because every paddy is waiting for life beneath its water. 

Months later, the rice is harvested from above, and the fish from below. One field, one season, two harvests—without disturbing nature's balance. Standing there, I realised that true abundance isn't created by taking more from the land... it's created by learning how to grow together with it.

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📍 Naara Aaba Winery, Ziro Valley, Arunachal Pradesh

🍇 Where Local Fruits Become Local Pride

"Sometimes, the greatest journeys don't begin in vineyards... they begin in the backyards of ordinary families."

Naara Aaba is India's first organic kiwi winery, founded in the heart of Ziro Valley by agricultural engineer Tage Rita. Instead of letting locally grown fruits go to waste, the winery buys organic kiwis, pears, plums and other seasonal produce directly from nearby farmers, turning them into award-winning wines while creating a sustainable source of income for the entire community. The winery has also been featured on Shark Tank India, bringing the story of Ziro to the rest of the country. 

I was fortunate enough to visit the winery and taste the wines myself. The flavours were unlike anything I had experienced before—fresh, fruity, light and deeply connected to the valley they came from. It wasn't simply about drinking wine; it was about tasting the mountains, the orchards, and the hard work of the people who call this place home.

Walking out of Naara Aaba, I realised that the finest souvenirs are never the bottles we carry back... they are the stories we uncork every time we remember the place.

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📍 By The Way Hostel, Sohra (Cherrapunji), Meghalaya

🌧️ Two Nights in the Land of Rain

Sometimes, in the middle of a long ride, you don't need a fancy hotel… you just need a warm room, a safe place for your bike and a little shelter from the rain.

After reaching Sohra, I found this charming little backpacker stay called By The Way, tucked away in Lower Cherrapunji. The place had a homely feel, with the owner living just behind the property and everything you needed close by — a petrol pump right next door, local dhabas and small restaurants around.

I had planned to explore the famous Living Root Bridges, but Sohra had other plans for me that evening. The rain came down hard… and there was simply no way I could take the bike out.

So, I stayed.

One night became two, while the clouds kept pouring over the Khasi Hills. But somewhere between the sound of rain, the quiet surroundings and the anticipation of the trek ahead, this little stay became part of the journey itself.

The next morning, I finally decided — rain or no rain, today I was going for the Living Root Bridge.

The rain had eased into a light drizzle. I started the bike, rode towards the trek starting point at Tyrna, parked the motorcycle and got ready for the long descent into the forest.

Ahead of me were thousands of steps, living roots, waterfalls and one of Meghalaya's most incredible natural wonders.

The real adventure was about to begin

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📍 Nongriat Living Root Bridge, Meghalaya

🌿 When the Virtual World Became Real

The rain never stopped that day. I walked through the mist and drizzle, climbing down countless slippery steps towards the Living Root Bridge.

It wasn't easy — wet stones, slippery stairs and a trail that kept testing my patience. I didn't take a guide; honestly, there wasn't much need for one. Just follow the people, and sometimes trust your instincts when two paths appear and there is no sign telling you where to go.

And then, suddenly… there it was.

Something I had seen countless times on Instagram and travel pages was now standing right in front of me — real, ancient and alive. That feeling of seeing a place virtually a hundred times and then finally standing there yourself is something completely different.

Reaching the bridge felt like an achievement. But the real test was still waiting…

The climb back up those steep steps. Every few dozen steps, people were stopping, sitting, breathing and then moving again. I was no different.

Tough journey. Incredible destination. Absolutely worth every step.

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📍 Blue Lagoon, Nongriat, Meghalaya

💙 A Blue Reward After Thousands of Steps

Most people reach the Living Root Bridge and turn back — the thought of climbing all those steps again is enough to stop them.

But if you have come this far, my suggestion is simple: keep going.

A little further ahead lies the beautiful Blue Lagoon — crystal-clear turquoise water surrounded by rocks, forest and the sound of flowing streams.

The trek gets tougher, but somehow the scenery keeps getting better. And when you finally see that blue water, the exhaustion starts disappearing.

You can even take a dip here; life jackets are available on rent, making it a perfect place to relax and cool down, especially in summer.

I could have simply sat there for hours — watching the water flow, listening to birds and enjoying the silence of the forest.

For me, this was even more beautiful than the Living Root Bridge itself.

So, if you have already made it to the Root Bridge… don't turn back. The Blue Lagoon is worth those extra steps. 

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📍 Mawlynnong Village, Meghalaya

🌿 The Road to God's Own Garden

Leaving Sohra, the weather was already playing its game. There was no rain, but the fog was so dense at times that I could barely see where my front tyre was heading.

I didn't stop. The fog would disappear for a while, the road would clear, and then another wall of mist would suddenly appear.

But there was another challenge waiting — a road section that was closed for construction from around 11 AM to the afternoon. I had to cross it before the closure.

And that muddy stretch became one of the toughest rides of my entire journey. The bike wanted to go one way, the road wanted to send me another!

But I kept going. I had heard so much about Mawlynnong that turning back simply wasn't an option.

Finally, I reached Mawlynnong — God's Own Garden, known for its remarkable cleanliness and sustainable way of life.

What impressed me wasn't just the beautiful bamboo houses, gardens and greenery… it was the attitude towards cleanliness.

Coming from someone who genuinely dislikes seeing garbage around, this place felt like a lesson — not in luxury, but in how beautifully people can live when they choose to respect their surroundings.

Sometimes, the best travel experiences aren't about what we see…

but about what we learn

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📍 Mawlynnong Village, Meghalaya

🌿 Beauty in Simplicity

Walking through Mawlynnong is an experience in itself. The bike stays outside, and once you start exploring the village on foot, you keep finding little corners that make you want to stop, sit for a while and simply enjoy the surroundings.

These beautiful little sitting spaces are a perfect example of that charm — made from natural, locally available materials, yet designed with so much thought and creativity.

What impressed me most was how carefully everything is planned. Which plant should go where, what should be placed in front of it, how a particular corner should look — even the smallest details seem to have been considered.

There is no unnecessary decoration, no artificial luxury… yet everything looks beautiful.

Natural materials have been given a modern touch without losing their original character.

It is a beautiful reminder that you don't always need expensive things to create something special.

Sometimes, all you need is nature, imagination and a little attention to detail.

And that is what makes Mawlynnong so special.

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📍 Sky View, Mawlynnong, Meghalaya

🎋 Where Bamboo Meets the Sky

Deep inside Mawlynnong, you come across some incredible examples of local craftsmanship — and this bamboo skywalk is one of them.

Built high among the trees, the structure takes you upward through a series of bamboo steps and narrow walkways. As you climb, the cool breeze gets stronger and the dense forest slowly opens up around you.

From the top, the view is something special. On a clear day, the plains of Bangladesh stretch beyond the green hills, creating a view that makes the climb completely worthwhile.

But for me, the real attraction wasn't just the view.

It was the craftsmanship.

There is something fascinating about seeing bamboo, tree branches and natural ropes being used together to create a structure like this — fitting naturally between the trees rather than fighting against them.

No unnecessary concrete. No heavy construction. Just nature, local knowledge and incredible imagination.

Every tree seems to have been studied carefully — where to connect, where to climb and where the best view would open up.

This is more than a viewpoint.

It is a beautiful example of how nature and human creativity can exist together.

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📍 Dawki, Meghalaya

💧 When Reality Meets the Internet

Dawki — one of those places I had seen countless times on social media, with boats seemingly floating in crystal-clear water and fish visible beneath the surface.

But my experience was quite different.

Maybe it was the rain, maybe the season — the water wasn't as transparent as the pictures I had seen online. And that's perfectly okay. Meghalaya Tourism itself recommends the winter months for the clearest waters of the Umngot River.

Coming from Mawlynnong towards Dawki, the landscape gradually changes as the road moves towards the India–Bangladesh border. Dawki is much more commercial and tourist-oriented, with boating, riverside stays, camps and plenty of activity around the Umngot.

But that's what travel is about — experiencing a place for yourself.

A camera can capture a beautiful moment, but it cannot always capture the season, weather, crowd or the feeling of actually standing there.

So don't just believe the internet.

Go. See it. Feel it. And make your own experience.

Because sometimes reality is better than the photograph…

and sometimes, it simply tells a different story. 

.

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📍 Hotel Asha, Dharmanagar, Tripura

🏨 When a Hotel Stay Becomes a Conversation

After crossing through the northern part of Tripura, I found myself staying at Hotel Asha in Dharmanagar — a simple, busy hotel that seemed to have its own steady flow of travellers. The property is located in Rajbari, close to the main transit and market area of Dharmanagar.

Fortunately, I managed to get a room here, and what made the stay memorable wasn't just the room — it was the conversation with the owner.

We ended up talking for quite some time about hospitality, food, kitchen operations and how a hotel can keep improving its guest experience.

What I really appreciated was his curiosity. He genuinely wanted to understand things from a hospitality professional's perspective, and our conversation naturally moved towards kitchen practices and small changes that could make a difference.

Before leaving, he also introduced me to a local favourite — Shingara, the Tripura-style samosa — giving me a chance to experience something local before moving ahead.

I actually wanted to stay another night, but the weather had finally cleared up, and I didn't want to waste the opportunity.

The next morning, I packed my bags, started the motorcycle and headed further towards Mizoram.

Sometimes, the most memorable part of a hotel isn't the room…

It's the people you meet and the conversations you carry with you

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📍 Kanhmun, Mizoram

🚧 The Gateway to Mizoram

Leaving Dharmanagar behind, the road slowly carried me across the Tripura–Mizoram border and into a completely different landscape.

At Kanhmun, I reached one of the important entry points into Mizoram, where the formalities and checks for visitors entering the state begin.

This was also the moment when my Mizoram journey officially started.

I stopped for a while and spoke to a police officer at the check post. Instead of simply moving ahead, I wanted to understand the rules — where I could stay, what I could explore and what I needed to keep in mind while travelling through Mizoram.

The officer patiently explained everything and even suggested a government guest house and a few places I could consider visiting.

For a traveller entering a new state, such conversations can be incredibly useful.

You can always search the internet for information, but sometimes the person sitting right in front of you knows the local rules, roads and practical realities far better.

That short conversation gave me confidence before heading deeper into Mizoram.

A new state. A new landscape. And another chapter of the ride was about to begin.

.

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📍 Kanhmun, Mizoram

👮‍♀️ The Officer at the Gateway

At the Kanhmun check post, my journey into Mizoram took a more personal turn.

Standing at the border was a police officer responsible for the check post and the formalities for travellers entering Mizoram. I stopped for a while and spoke with her, wanting to understand the entry process and the rules I needed to follow during my journey.

She patiently explained the formalities, the Inner Line Permit (ILP) requirements and other important things I needed to keep in mind while travelling through the state.

For me, this was more than just a routine check at a state border.

It was my first real interaction with someone representing the state, and her calm and helpful approach made the beginning of my Mizoram journey feel much more welcoming.

Sometimes, a journey becomes memorable not because of a famous landmark, but because of the people you meet along the way.

And this was one of those moments.

A simple conversation at a border check post — but the beginning of a beautiful Mizoram chapter

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📍 Rural Mizoram, on the road towards Aizawl

🔥 Nothing Goes to Waste

After crossing the Mizoram border and riding deeper towards Aizawl, the landscape slowly began revealing a very different way of rural life.

Somewhere along the forest road, I came across a simple traditional cooking setup outside a village home.

What caught my attention was the way people here make sure that nothing goes to waste.

A few small chickens had died, and instead of simply throwing them away, they had been hung above the traditional wood-fired hearth, where the smoke and heat were slowly drying them.

The idea was simple — preserve the meat through smoking and later use it as a pickle or preserved food.

This was not an elaborate kitchen. Just a basic hearth, firewood, a pot sitting over the fire and food being preserved naturally through heat and smoke.

Wood-fired cooking is an important part of everyday life here. The constant smoke gives the food a distinctive flavour, while the warm water kept over the fire can be used throughout the day.

In many homes, these cooking spaces are built separately outside the main house. During colder or rainy weather, however, the hearth can also become part of the living space, providing both warmth and a place to cook.

What stayed with me was the simplicity of it all.

No complicated equipment. No unnecessary waste. Just fire, smoke, time and an understanding of how to preserve what nature has provided.

For someone who loves food and travel, these are the moments that make a journey truly special.

Because sometimes, the most fascinating food stories are not found in restaurants — they are found around a simple village hearth

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📍 Jiribam, Manipur

🥬 A Market Full of Manipur’s Greens

After entering Manipur, one of the first things that caught my attention was the local vegetable market at Jiribam.

At first glance, it looked like a simple village market — baskets, fresh produce, local sellers and people going about their daily shopping.

But for someone who loves food, there was something much more interesting happening here.

The variety of vegetables was very different from what we normally see in the markets of Delhi and North India.

Along with familiar vegetables, Manipur’s markets are known for a remarkable diversity of indigenous and seasonal greens, herbs, shoots and lesser-known vegetables. Many of these are collected from forests, wetlands, home gardens and local farms and then brought directly to the markets. Research has documented dozens of wild edible vegetables traditionally consumed across Manipur.

Beans and other fresh legumes are an important part of the local vegetable basket, while vegetables such as water spinach, colocasia and a variety of local leafy greens are commonly used in Manipuri cooking. Manipur’s traditional food culture also includes distinctive ingredients such as yongchak (tree bean), maroi, perilla and bamboo shoots, which give the cuisine a character that is difficult to find in everyday North Indian markets.

What makes these markets special is not simply the number of vegetables, but the relationship people have with them.

Many of these ingredients are seasonal and deeply connected to local food traditions. They are not just vegetables on a stall — they are part of the everyday food culture of Manipur.

And that is what I enjoy most about travelling.

You can read about a place, see its famous landmarks and take photographs — but walking through a local market tells you something much deeper.

It tells you what people actually eat.

And in Jiribam, I was beginning to understand Manipur through its vegetables, its markets and its food culture.

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📍 Jiribam, Manipur

🐟 When Fish Becomes a Flavour

On the other side of the market was a completely different world — rows of fresh and dried fish.

The dried fish immediately caught my attention.

There were different varieties, shapes and sizes, carefully laid out for sale. What fascinated me was the traditional idea behind them — preserving fish through drying and smoke so that it can be used long after the fresh catch is gone.

In Manipur, sun-drying and smoke-drying fish are traditional preservation methods. Dried fish can be eaten directly or used to add a deep, distinctive flavour to vegetable dishes and other preparations.

Some dried fish also become the foundation for traditional fermented foods such as Ngari and Hentak, important ingredients in Manipuri cuisine.

Standing there, I couldn't help but compare it with Rajasthan, where seasonal vegetables like methi or dried vegetables are preserved and brought back into the kitchen when needed.

Different ingredients. Different climate. Different culture.

But the same beautiful food philosophy:

Preserve what nature gives you today, so you can enjoy it tomorrow.

I didn't get the chance to learn exactly how these particular fish were prepared or cooked — but I definitely left with a new curiosity.

Next time, I want to see the complete journey — from fresh fish to dried fish, and from dried fish to the final Manipuri dish

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📍 Nagaon → Lumding → Diphu → Dimapur

🏍️ The Road That Took Me to Nagaland

My ride towards Nagaland took me through the Nagaon → Lumding → Diphu → Dimapur route in Assam, eventually bringing me to the gateway of Nagaland.

This was a long but beautiful motorcycle stretch, and for a rider, much of this highway was an absolute pleasure.

The road opened up beautifully in several sections, with long stretches of smooth highway, changing landscapes and plenty to keep your eyes busy on both sides.

There was one construction stretch where the experience became completely different. Because of the ongoing work and rain, that patch had turned rough and muddy, making the ride slow and demanding.

But once that section was behind me, the road became enjoyable again.

Passing through Lumding and Diphu, the journey gradually moved closer to Dimapur. The Lumding–Diphu–Dimapur connection is an important road link between Assam and Dimapur.

What I particularly enjoyed were the little roadside tea stops.

Stopping the motorcycle, sitting down with a hot cup of tea and watching the local life around the highway was as enjoyable as the riding itself. These small breaks are what make a long motorcycle journey feel less like a commute and more like an experience.

The approach towards Dimapur had some rougher sections, but overall, this route gave me a memorable ride through Assam before entering Nagaland.

Dimapur — the gateway to Nagaland.

A new state. A new landscape. And another chapter of the ride was about to begin

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📍 Dimapur, Nagaland

🍄 The Mysterious Mushroom Ruins

After reaching Dimapur, one of the first places that caught my attention was the Kachari Ruins — a remarkable group of ancient stone structures standing in the heart of the city.

The site was once part of the ancient capital of the Kachari Kingdom, and its remains are among the most important historical traces of Dimapur’s past. The ruins are especially famous for their unusual mushroom-shaped domed pillars, which give the entire place a strangely fascinating appearance.

Standing among these stones, I found myself wondering about the people who built them and what life must have looked like here centuries ago.

The most intriguing part is that the exact purpose of these mushroom-shaped structures is still uncertain. Different interpretations connect them with ancient rituals, memorials and even the idea of a game resembling chess.

Dimapur today is a busy city, but right in the middle of it stands this quiet reminder of a much older world.

For me, this was not simply another tourist attraction.

It was my first glimpse into the history of Nagaland — a place where stones, ruins and unanswered questions still tell stories from a civilisation that existed long before the modern city around it.

And this was only the beginning of my exploration of Dimapur

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📍 Kachari Ruins, Dimapur, Nagaland

♟️ The Giant Chess Piece

Among the Kachari Ruins, one particular mushroom-shaped pillar caught my attention enough to stop and photograph it on its own.

Standing there, it almost looks like a giant chess piece placed in the middle of an ancient playing ground.

And that is where one of the most fascinating stories surrounding these ruins begins.

Local tradition and popular accounts suggest that these unusual pillars may once have been used like pieces in a game resembling chess — as if people of another era were playing a giant board game with these massive stones. The story is fascinating, but its exact purpose has never been conclusively established.

There are other interpretations too, including connections with ancient rituals, fertility symbolism and memorial traditions. The official history of Dimapur also notes that the monoliths are associated with elaborate fertility-related rituals.

Whatever their original purpose, standing beside one of these enormous stones makes you wonder about the people who created them — and what stories were unfolding here centuries ago.

Today, the ruins sit quietly in an open green setting, surrounded by the remains of an ancient world.

No giant chessboard survives.

Only the pieces remain.

And perhaps that mystery is what makes the Kachari Ruins so fascinating

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📍 Dimapur, Nagaland

🌶️ A Chef’s Walk Through the Market

Near Dimapur Railway Station, I explored one of the city’s busy local markets — and for me, this was much more than a place to shop.

As a chef, I always believe that if you really want to understand a place’s food, go to its market first.

A market tells you what people actually eat, what ingredients are available, what is bought every day, what is seasonal and what has become a staple in the local kitchen.

Walking through the Dimapur market, I could see local vegetables, fermented and smoked ingredients, pork and other products that are deeply connected with Naga food culture.

But one ingredient immediately demanded my attention.

Naga King Chilli.

Fresh green, bright red, dried — it was everywhere.

Also known locally as Raja Mircha, and commonly known as Bhut Jolokia in Assam, this chilli is one of the defining ingredients of Northeast Indian cuisine. Nagaland’s Naga King Chilli has a GI tag, and its heat can exceed one million Scoville Heat Units (SHU), depending on the variety and growing conditions.

As a chef, I had heard plenty about this chilli before reaching Nagaland.

But seeing it fresh, dried and sitting openly in baskets throughout a local market was a completely different experience.

I was offered the chance to taste it — but honestly, I decided not to take the risk!

This is not simply a chilli used to make food “spicy”. Its aroma, flavour and intense heat are part of the culinary identity of the region, and it is used fresh, dried, powdered and pickled.

For me, this market visit was a lesson in itself.

A chef can learn recipes from books, but a market teaches you what a community really eats.

And Dimapur had just given me another ingredient, another story and another reason to understand Naga cuisine more deeply.

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📍 Kaziranga National Park, Assam

🦏 Into the Land of the One-Horned Rhino

Kaziranga was one of those places where the journey suddenly became a completely different kind of adventure.

Located in the floodplains of the Brahmaputra, Kaziranga is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the world’s most important wildlife habitats. It is especially famous for its Indian one-horned rhinoceros, along with elephants, wild buffalo, tigers and an incredible variety of birds.

For me, the most beautiful sight was watching the rhinos moving through the grasslands — especially the smaller ones staying close to their mothers.

And then came another little spectacle: white egrets resting on the backs of rhinos, turning an already incredible wildlife scene into something almost surreal.

If you are travelling through Assam, I would definitely recommend keeping Kaziranga on your list.

🎟️ Safari Information

Safari charges vary by range and can change with government revisions. The currently listed official rates include ₹100 Indian / ₹650 foreigner for park entry, while an elephant seat is listed at ₹1,200 Indian / ₹2,000 foreigner. Jeep hiring is listed separately by range, roughly ₹2,200–₹3,200 per vehicle, before other applicable charges.

Both Jeep Safari and Elephant Safari are available, but personally I would recommend the Jeep Safari if you want to explore more of the park. The jeep can take you along a wider network of safari tracks, while the elephant experience is more focused and closer to the grassland edge.

For a traveller, wildlife lover or simply someone who wants to see Assam beyond its cities, Kaziranga is absolutely worth the visit.

Sometimes you don't need a famous monument.

A rhino walking through tall grass is enough to make the journey unforgettable

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📍 Near Kaziranga, Assam — En Route to Tezpur

🍽️ A Meal Worth Stopping For

After crossing Kaziranga and riding around 10–12 kilometres further towards Tezpur, I came across a beautiful little stay tucked away from the main road.

It was more than just a place to spend the night.

The property was simple, peaceful and beautifully maintained, run with a very personal touch by a lady who clearly took pride in looking after her guests.

She offered us a freshly prepared meal made largely with local and organically grown ingredients.

As a chef, I was immediately curious.

The food was simple, homemade and completely different from what you usually expect at a conventional resort. But what really stood out were the varieties of homemade pickles — each one carrying its own flavour, texture and character.

There was nothing fancy about the presentation.

Yet every bite felt honest.

The kind of food where you can actually taste the ingredients, the local produce and the experience of the person who prepared it.

Travelling has taught me that some of the best meals are not necessarily found in famous restaurants.

Sometimes, you simply stop at a small place on the highway, accept what a local host puts on your plate, and discover a flavour you never expected.

For me, this was one of those stops.

A simple meal, a warm host and flavours that stayed with me long after I left

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📍 Dekargaon, Tezpur, Assam

🏡 A Place That Felt Like Home

Dekargaon Railway Station became much more than just a stop on my journey through Assam.

I had found a beautiful homestay close to the station, and because it was so conveniently located, I ended up staying here twice — once while heading towards Tawang and again after returning from the mountains.

Because of the monsoon and the way the journey unfolded, I spent almost four to five days here in total.

The station itself was surprisingly peaceful and clean. Away from the noise of the main road, it became one of my favourite places for an evening or morning walk.

Dekargaon is the railway station serving Tezpur, and from this side the road journey towards Tawang continues through Bhalukpong, Bomdila and Dirang.

But honestly, I don't remember this place only because of its location.

I remember it because of the feeling it gave me.

After staying there twice, the homestay began to feel less like accommodation and more like a temporary home Travel Companion. The place, walking and the deep conversations slowly became part of the journey.

Travel has a strange way of doing that.

Sometimes you arrive somewhere just looking for a bed for a couple of nights — and leave carrying memories that stay with you for ever.

There are people you meet while travelling who teach you something without ever calling themselves teachers. A conversation, an experience or a simple act of kindness can quietly change the way you look at life.

Dekargaon became one of those places for me.

Not because it was the biggest attraction on the map, but because of the true memories and pure soul I found there.

Some places you visit.

Some places become a part of you.

Dekargaon will always remain one of those places in my Northeast journey.

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📍 On the Road to Dirang, Arunachal Pradesh

🏔️ After the Formalities, Arunachal Began

After entering Arunachal Pradesh and completing the required entry formalities, the journey suddenly started feeling very different.

For Indian travellers, an Inner Line Permit (ILP) is required to enter Arunachal Pradesh, while foreign travellers require a Protected Area Permit (PAP). These permits are checked during the entry process before travellers continue into the state.

Once the formalities were behind me, the road began climbing into the mountains.

And then I saw this.

The sky was unbelievably clear, the clouds were floating above the mountains and the road was winding beautifully along the hillside.

I was riding, but at that moment I simply had to stop.

The motorcycle went to the side of the road, the helmet came off and I just stood there for a while looking at the view.

Sometimes you don't stop because the bike needs a break.

You stop because the view deserves one.

This was one of those moments when the journey itself became the destination.

The road towards Dirang and beyond to Tawang had officially begun — and Arunachal was already giving me a reason to slow down and simply look around

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📍 Dirang, Arunachal Pradesh

☕ Tea, Rain & a Himalayan Evening

After the climb up to Thupsung Dhargyeling Monastery, also known as Dirang Monastery, the whole atmosphere felt completely different.

The monastery sits on a hill overlooking the Dirang Valley, surrounded by mountains and greenery. The present monastery was completed in 2016 and was consecrated by the 14th Dalai Lama in 2017.

The day we visited, there was a light drizzle in the evening.

And somehow, that made the place even more beautiful.

The cold mountain air, the mist slowly moving across the hills and the sound of light rain created one of those rare travel moments where you don't feel like rushing anywhere.

There was a small canteen where we could sit with a hot cup of tea and simply watch the rain outside.

Coming from the warmth of the plains, the sudden change in temperature felt refreshing.

Bomdila had already introduced me to the cold, but Dirang felt like a comfortable pause before the real Himalayan cold began.

As the road continues towards Tawang, the altitude keeps increasing and the weather gets colder.

But that evening in Dirang, sitting with a cup of tea while the mountains disappeared behind the mist, I realised something:

Sometimes the best part of a journey is not reaching the next destination — it is simply sitting with someone, somewhere beautiful and letting the moment stay with you

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📍 On the Road Beyond Dirang, Arunachal Pradesh

🏳️ A Stop the Mountains Demanded

We had barely left after our tea break when this beautiful stretch of road appeared in front of us.

My travel companion immediately said, “We have to stop here.”

And that instinct was absolutely right.

Some places simply make you stop.

The mountains were beautiful, the sky was wide open, and then came these rows of colourful prayer flags fluttering in the mountain wind.

My travel companion had spotted the perfect photo location. So we stopped, parked the motorcycle and took a moment to enjoy the view.

The colourful flags against the rugged mountains created a completely different frame. Watching them move continuously with the wind was even more beautiful in a video — almost as if the landscape itself was moving.

Prayer flags are deeply connected with Tibetan Buddhist traditions across the Himalayan region, and their presence becomes increasingly familiar as you travel towards Tawang.

For me, this became one of those spontaneous roadside moments that make a motorcycle journey special.

No planned sightseeing.

No famous landmark.

Just a beautiful mountain road, a traveller companion with a good eye for the perfect stop, and hundreds of colourful flags moving with the wind.

Sometimes the best photographs are the ones you never planned to take

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📍 Sela Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

❄️ When the Cold Became Real

By the time I reached Sela Pass, the landscape had completely transformed.

Snow was everywhere, the temperature had dropped dramatically, and I quickly realised that I had not prepared myself for this kind of cold. I had travelled through Ladakh before, but somehow this felt even more intense.

My fingers had gone completely numb. They felt so cold and painful that it was difficult to even move them properly.

So I stopped the motorcycle and came up with a simple solution — I carefully warmed my hands against the motorcycle's silencer, slowly bringing the feeling back into my fingers.

It took some time, but gradually the numbness started to disappear.

And then, despite the cold, I simply stood there and looked around.

Sela Pass was covered in snow, surrounded by mountains and silence. It was my first real experience of seeing this much snow at once, and the feeling of finally reaching this legendary Himalayan pass was unforgettable.

Sometimes a journey teaches you to prepare better.

Sometimes it simply teaches you to keep going.

At Sela Pass, I learnt both.

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📍 Sela Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

❄️ A Little Companion at Sela

Standing at Sela Pass was already a moment of achievement.

After riding through narrow mountain roads, slippery stretches and countless hairpin bends, finally reaching this snow-covered landscape felt incredibly satisfying.

The cold was intense, but the beauty around made it easy to forget everything else. Snow-covered mountains, prayer flags and the silence of the high altitude created a completely different atmosphere.

While I was standing near the “I ❤️ Sela” sign, a local mountain dog caught my attention. I simply touched and played with it for a moment—and that was enough.

It immediately decided that I was its new companion and refused to leave me alone. Every time I tried to move ahead, it followed me again, looking for another moment of play.

Perhaps in such extreme cold, staying active and playing is one of the ways these mountain dogs keep themselves warm.

Getting away from my new four-legged companion became almost as difficult as riding through those endless hairpin bends.

But standing there at Sela Pass, after riding all the way up on a motorcycle, gave me a quiet sense of pride.

Some places are memorable because of the destination.

Some become unforgettable because of the little moments that happen along the way.

At Sela Pass, I found both

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📍 Sela Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

🏔️ Where the Road Meets the Lake

There are some views where you simply stop riding and let the mountains speak for themselves.

Standing at Sela Pass, I looked back at the winding road disappearing through the mountains, with the beautiful Sela Lake sitting quietly in the background.

The road curved through the landscape like a ribbon, while the lake reflected the stillness of the mountains around it.

Everything felt beautifully balanced—the cold air, the silence, the snow-covered slopes and that winding road leading somewhere beyond the horizon.

For a traveller on a motorcycle, moments like this are difficult to pass without stopping.

I had come to Sela for the journey, but this view made me want to stay for a little longer.

Sometimes a road does not just take you somewhere.

Sometimes it becomes the most beautiful part of the journey.

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📍 Bum La Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

🏔️ Where the Road Meets the Border

Reaching Bum La Pass felt completely different from everything I had experienced on the journey so far.

Unlike most places around Tawang, you cannot simply take your motorcycle and ride up to Bum La. Indian travellers need a separate Bum La Pass permit, issued through the Tawang administration, in addition to the ILP required for Arunachal Pradesh. The official district administration lists the Bum La permit through the DC Office, Tawang.

Foreign nationals face further restrictions in this sensitive border area. Even with a Protected Area Permit for Arunachal Pradesh, Bum La is not part of the normal foreign-tourist route; the Tawang administration specifically describes the Bum La day trip as available to Indian travellers, while foreign visitors are directed towards other permitted areas.

For Indian travellers, the easiest way is usually to arrange the trip through a local taxi operator in Tawang. The driver takes care of the practical arrangements and the required permissions, making the journey much easier.

The road itself is an adventure.

It becomes narrower, rougher and more demanding as you climb higher. Experienced local drivers are the safest choice, especially when snow and ice are involved. During difficult conditions, vehicles may need snow chains on their tyres, something the local authorities also advise for snow-covered roads.

And then there is the feeling of knowing that you are heading towards one of the most sensitive border areas in the country.

On one side is India. Beyond the mountains lies China. Military presence is visible, movement is controlled and every precaution suddenly feels completely understandable.

For a traveller, being allowed to reach such a place is a privilege.

For a biker, riding through those narrow mountain roads, crossing every hairpin bend and finally standing at Bum La feels like a completely different kind of achievement.

Some journeys take you to beautiful places.

Some take you right to the edge of a country

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📍 Bum La Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

❄️ Where the Cold Feels Different

Bum La Pass stands at around 15,200 feet above sea level, right on the India–China border. It was also one of the important battle areas during the 1962 India-China War, making the place significant not only for its landscape but also for its history.

By the time I reached Bum La, the cold had become something completely different.

The temperature was below freezing, everything around seemed to be frozen, and even breathing felt difficult in the thin, cold air.

Getting out of the vehicle itself felt like a challenge.

Luckily, I always carry a simple scarf with me. I wrapped it around my ears and face, which gave me some much-needed relief from the freezing wind. Without it, I honestly don't know how long I would have wanted to stay outside.

The road to Bum La is an experience in itself. Narrow mountain tracks, sharp turns, snow-covered stretches and an unforgiving landscape make every kilometre feel like an adventure.

And then suddenly, you find yourself standing at more than 15,000 feet, looking at a landscape that feels almost unreal.

It is not easy to reach a place like Bum La.

But perhaps that is exactly what makes standing there feel so special.

Some places challenge your body.

Some challenge your courage.

Bum La somehow managed to challenge both

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📍 Bum La Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

❤️ Where Love Stays Warm

Some people travel together as partners.

Some travel together as best friends.

And perhaps the most beautiful relationships are the ones where both exist at the same time.

At a place like Bum La, where the temperature drops below freezing and the entire landscape turns white, watching two people laugh, play and enjoy the moment together says something beautiful about companionship.

Marriage should never mean losing the friendship.

In fact, staying friends after marriage may be one of the greatest secrets to keeping a relationship alive. When two people can still laugh together, play together, explore together and enjoy the simplest moments like children, even the harshest journeys become lighter.

The mountains teach us that warmth is not always about temperature.

Sometimes, it comes from the person walking beside you.

And when that warmth stays alive, even a frozen landscape like Bum La can feel beautifully alive.

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📍 Bum La Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

❄️ A Lake Frozen in Silence

There is something magical about seeing a lake surrounded completely by snow.

At Bum La, the landscape seemed almost unreal — white mountains, frozen ground and a quiet lake sitting peacefully in the middle of it all.

I have always loved sitting beside lakes. There is something about being near water that makes you slow down, breathe deeper and simply stay with the moment.

But here, sitting by the lake was not really an option.

The cold was too intense, the wind too sharp, and standing there for long was already a challenge. Yet, just looking at the lake surrounded by endless snow was enough.

Some places invite you to sit beside them.

Some simply ask you to stand still and admire them.

This was one of those moments — a frozen landscape, a silent lake and a feeling that was difficult to put into words

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📍 Bum La Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

❄️ The Road Through the Snow

Looking at this photograph, the first thing that stands out is the road cutting through an endless blanket of white.

But that road does not stay clear by itself.

Keeping these roads open in a place like Bum La, where heavy snowfall can cover everything within a short time, is a task that demands incredible effort, discipline and courage from the soldiers stationed here.

Every visible stretch of black road through the snow is, in many ways, a reminder of their work.

And there is another reality here — you do not decide how long you can stay.

The weather does.

When we were there, a sudden snowstorm arrived and the soldiers immediately instructed everyone to return to their vehicles. There was no argument, no delay — everyone simply followed the instructions and started heading back.

In these mountains, conditions can change within minutes.

That is why reaching Bum La is not only about the journey or the breathtaking views. It is also about understanding the people who keep this difficult frontier accessible and safe.

For every kilometre of road through that snow, there is a story of hard work behind it.

A salute to the soldiers who keep these roads open, even when nature tries to close them

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📍 Bum La Pass, Arunachal Pradesh

🇮🇳 India — A Land of Extraordinary Contrasts

Standing in a place like Bum La makes you realise just how extraordinary India really is.

A country where the journey can begin beside the sea, pass through dense forests and endless plains, climb into the Himalayas and finally bring you to a landscape buried under snow.

India has mountains, rivers, forests, deserts, beaches, lakes and valleys — and somehow, all of these worlds exist within the same country.

Here at Bum La, the snow seemed endless. Everything around me was covered in white, the air was freezing, and yet there was a quiet sense of security in knowing that even in such a remote and difficult landscape, our soldiers are present.

That thought makes the view even more powerful.

These mountains are not just beautiful.

They are also part of the country's frontier, protected by people who live and work in conditions most of us can only experience for a few hours.

Every road, every post and every cleared stretch through the snow carries a reminder of that commitment.

Travelling through India teaches you that its greatness is not found in one monument, one city or one landscape.

It is found in the sheer diversity of places, people and experiences that this country holds within its borders.

From the ocean to the Himalayas, from tropical forests to frozen passes — India truly has a world of its own.

And standing here, surrounded by snow at Bum La, I felt proud to be witnessing just one more extraordinary chapter of that incredible story

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📍 Bum La, Arunachal Pradesh

🇮🇳 A Gateway to Courage

Just below Bum La, this memorial stands quietly in the middle of one of the harshest landscapes in India.

This is the memorial dedicated to Subedar Joginder Singh, Param Vir Chakra awardee and one of the heroes of the 1962 Sino-Indian War. He fought against overwhelming odds in the Bum La sector and made the supreme sacrifice while defending this frontier.

The memorial was inaugurated in 2020, close to the battlefield where his story became part of India's military history.

Standing here, surrounded by snow-covered mountains and silence, the memorial feels even more powerful.

There are places where you travel for the landscape.

And then there are places where the landscape makes you stop and remember the people who stood here before you.

This was one of those moments.

A quiet gateway, a difficult frontier and a story of courage that still lives in these mountains.

Some journeys show you the beauty of a country.

Some remind you of the price paid to protect it

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📍 Somewhere Between Dirang & Tezpur, Arunachal Pradesh

🤝 Strangers Who Became Part of the Journey

Some people enter your journey as strangers and quietly become part of your story.

I met this wonderful couple from Mumbai somewhere after Dirang. They were travelling by car, and what began as a chance meeting slowly turned into days of travelling together — eating together, exploring together, sharing stories and simply enjoying the road.

But their real contribution was much more than that.

They were cheerful, well-educated, curious and full of life. Their energy made the journey lighter, and their company brought back a kind of carefree childhood that we often lose somewhere in the rush of life.

We travelled together all the way to Tezpur, and when the time came to part ways, there was a strange sadness.

But perhaps that is how travel works.

People meet, people part, and some memories quietly stay forever.

As Buddha teaches us, nothing is permanent — so we should not hold too tightly to either meeting or separation.

What matters is what we carry forward.

And I will always carry the laughter, kindness, help and beautiful days we shared on those mountain roads.

Maybe we will meet again someday, somewhere in another corner of the world, and continue the journey as if we never really said goodbye

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📍 Tawang – Dirang Road, Arunachal Pradesh

🎄 When the Christmas Trees Became Real

There are some sights we grow up seeing only in our imagination.

As a child, I knew the Christmas tree as something beautifully artificial — a little tree decorated with cotton to create the illusion of snow. We took photographs beside it, smiled at it, and felt happy looking at that little piece of winter.

And then, somewhere on the road from Tawang towards Dirang, I saw the real thing.

Kilometres after kilometres of dense Himalayan forests, with their branches naturally covered in snow. Trees that looked almost exactly like the Christmas trees of my childhood — except this time, there was no cotton, no decoration and no artificial winter.

Just nature.

I kept looking at them and thinking about how beautifully life surprises us.

Something I once tried to create with cotton was now standing in front of me — alive, enormous and stretching across the mountains for kilometres.

The child who once looked at a decorated Christmas tree with wonder was now riding through a real winter forest, surrounded by thousands of them.

Perhaps this is what travelling does.

It takes the little dreams of childhood and, years later, quietly places them in front of you — much bigger, much more beautiful and completely real.

Somewhere between Tawang and Dirang, I did not just see a snow-covered forest.

I met a childhood memory again.

Only this time, it was real

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📍 Tawang Monastery, Arunachal Pradesh

🕊️ Where Silence Speaks

Standing inside Tawang Monastery feels like stepping away from the world for a while.

Perched high in the Himalayan mountains, Tawang Monastery is one of the most important centres of Tibetan Buddhism in India. But beyond its history and grandeur, what stays with you is the atmosphere inside.

The moment you enter the prayer hall, something inside you naturally becomes quieter.

The colourful walls, beautiful prayer rugs, ancient Buddhist traditions and the peaceful presence of the Buddha create an atmosphere that is difficult to explain in words.

You may arrive carrying a thousand thoughts, but after sitting there for a while, you realise that you are no longer holding on to all of them.

Perhaps that is the real beauty of places built for peace.

They do not ask you to stop thinking.

They simply teach you to stop holding on to every thought.

And somewhere in that silence, a few simple teachings of Gautama Buddha begin to feel more meaningful:

“Let go of attachment, and you will make more room for peace.”

“Everything changes. Accepting change is the beginning of inner peace.”

“Peace begins within. A calm mind can find stillness even in a restless world.”

I sat there for a while, looking at the Buddha and simply taking in the silence around me.

For those few moments, there was nowhere else I needed to be.

Tawang Monastery was not just another place on the journey.

It was a reminder that sometimes the most beautiful journeys are the ones that make you pause, breathe and simply be.

And sometimes, in complete silence, you understand something that words could never explain

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📍 On the Way to Gangtok, Sikkim

🏔️ A Little Glimpse of Sikkim

After the long Himalayan roads of Arunachal Pradesh, the journey eventually brought me towards Sikkim.

On the way from Siliguri towards Gangtok, I stopped at a small restaurant and noticed this beautiful picture of Sikkim hanging on the wall.

It felt like a small introduction to a completely different Himalayan world.

Sikkim is a land of mountains, monasteries, prayer flags, forests and quiet valleys — a place where nature and spirituality seem to exist side by side. And at the heart of this journey is Gangtok, a beautiful mountain town where the roads, the hills and the culture come together beautifully.

The picture itself seemed to capture the spirit of Sikkim — colourful Buddhist traditions, magnificent mountains, peaceful monasteries and a landscape that invites you to slow down.

Sometimes you do not need to reach a place to start feeling connected to it.

Sometimes, a single picture is enough to make you curious about the road ahead.

And for me, this was that little glimpse of Sikkim before entering Gangtok

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📍 Rangpo, Sikkim – NH10

🏍️ The Moment Sikkim Began

There is a different feeling when you cross into a new state on a motorcycle — especially when that place has been waiting somewhere in your imagination for a long time.

This photograph was taken around Rangpo, the gateway into Sikkim on the Siliguri–Gangtok route. NH10 follows the Teesta valley before entering Sikkim at Rangpo and continuing towards Gangtok.

The road itself is a beautiful experience for a rider.

The mountains slowly begin to rise, the landscape changes, the air feels different and the road starts winding through the hills. For a biker, the curves, the scenery and the feeling of riding deeper into the Himalayas make this stretch particularly enjoyable.

And then comes that little moment when you finally see the name — SIKKIM.

It is difficult to explain what that moment feels like when you have arrived there on your own motorcycle.

You stop for a photograph, look at the bike, look at the mountains and quietly realise — I am actually here.

Perhaps that is one of the simplest joys of travelling.

Not just reaching a destination, but experiencing the first moment when a place changes from something you had only imagined into something standing right in front of you.

Sikkim had finally begun.

And the road to Gangtok was waiting ahead. 

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📍 MG Marg, Gangtok, Sikkim

🌿 A Little Piece of Europe in the Himalayas

If there is one place in Gangtok that feels completely different from the usual Indian city streets, it is MG Marg.

Located in the heart of Gangtok, MG Marg is a pedestrian-only promenade lined with cafés, restaurants, shops, boutiques and local handicraft stores. What makes it special is not just the shopping or food — it is the atmosphere.

There is no traffic rushing past you.

No unnecessary noise.

Just people walking, talking, sitting on the benches and enjoying the cool mountain air.

The entire stretch is beautifully maintained and known for its cleanliness. The benches, decorative lamps, colourful buildings and carefully planned public spaces give it an almost European feel.

For a moment, you can actually forget that you are somewhere in India.

The Mahatma Gandhi statue adds another beautiful identity to the place, quietly reminding you why this stretch is called MG Marg. And because Gangtok itself sits on the hills, even walking here feels like a gentle climb into the heart of the city.

But perhaps the best part of MG Marg is that you do not need a plan.

You can simply walk.

Stop for a coffee.

Sit on a bench.

Watch people pass by.

Explore a little shop.

Or just stand there and take in the mountains around you.

Sometimes a place becomes memorable not because of one particular monument, but because of the feeling it leaves behind.

MG Marg gave me that feeling.

For a few hours, Gangtok did not feel like just another mountain destination.

It felt like a little European-style walking street, beautifully placed in the middle of the Himalayas

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📍 Lall Bazaar, Gangtok, Sikkim

🛍️ Where Gangtok Feels Most Alive

Just below the polished and peaceful MG Marg lies a completely different side of Gangtok — Lall Bazaar.

Established in 1956, Lall Bazaar was named after John S. Lall, who served as the Dewan of the Chogyal of Sikkim. Over the years, it grew into one of Gangtok’s most important traditional marketplaces.

And interestingly, the name “Lall” has nothing to do with the colour red.

This is where Gangtok feels more local, colourful and alive.

Fresh vegetables, fruits, spices, local produce, traditional products, handicrafts, household essentials and everyday items — almost everything finds its own little space here.

The real charm of Lall Bazaar is not just in what you can buy, but in what you experience while walking through it.

The sounds of local conversations, the colours of the market, the aroma of fresh produce and the constant movement of people make every corner feel alive.

Walking through these streets is a completely different experience from the calm and polished atmosphere of MG Marg.

You don't really need a plan here.

Just walk.

Stop at a shop, look around, talk to a local seller, discover something unexpected and continue wandering through the lanes.

Sometimes, that is how a place introduces itself to you.

MG Marg shows you the elegant side of Gangtok.

Lall Bazaar shows you its everyday soul.

And for a traveller, discovering that everyday soul is often more memorable than simply seeing the famous landmarks

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📍 Sikkim

🥟 Sha Phaley — Sikkim’s Himalayan Comfort Snack

If  North India has its samosa, Sikkim has its own beautiful answer — Sha Phaley.

Also known as Shapale or Shabaley, Sha Phaley is a traditional Tibetan-influenced snack that has become an important part of Sikkim’s everyday food culture.

At first glance, its half-moon shape and beautifully crimped edges almost make it look familiar.

But the moment you take a bite, you realise that this is something completely different.

A simple dough is rolled out, filled, folded into a half-moon and carefully sealed along the edges before being deep-fried until golden and crisp.

Traditionally, the filling is made with seasoned minced meat, often combined with cabbage, onion, ginger, garlic and spices.

Vegetarian versions are also prepared, using vegetables and other local ingredients in place of meat.

The result is wonderfully simple — crisp on the outside, warm and flavourful inside, usually enjoyed with a hot chilli or garlic chutney.

In Sikkim, Sha Phaley is not just another snack.

It is part of the everyday rhythm of Himalayan food culture — something warm, filling and comforting, much like the samosa is for many parts of India.

And perhaps that is what makes local food so special.

Every region has its own version of comfort.

You just have to travel far enough to discover it

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📍 Sikkim

🥟 Momos & Soup — A Himalayan Comfort

A plate of vegetarian momos, served with a warm bowl of soup — simple, comforting and perfectly at home in the food culture of Sikkim.

The menu placed beside the plate was a small reminder that food here is not just about filling the stomach. It is about warmth, simplicity and flavours that naturally belong to the mountains.

These were vegetarian momos, filled with a simple mixture of vegetables, herbs and seasoning, wrapped in soft dough and steamed until perfectly cooked.

And then came the soup.

Light, warm and soothing — exactly the kind of accompaniment that makes sense in the cool Himalayan weather.

There is something special about having hot momos and soup after a long ride through the mountains.

Your hands are tired, the weather is cool, the road has been winding through the hills — and suddenly, a warm plate arrives in front of you.

No complicated presentation.

No unnecessary luxury.

Just good food, a little warmth and a quiet moment to enjoy it.

Perhaps that is why momos have become such an important part of the Himalayan food identity.

They are simple enough to be everyday food, yet comforting enough to become a memory of the journey.

And for a traveller, sometimes the best food experiences are the ones that arrive quietly, exactly when you need them the most. 

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📍 Kalimpong, West Bengal

🌿 Where the Mountains Slow You Down

After crossing Kalimpong, the road slowly takes you towards places where the noise of the outside world seems to disappear.

This was one of those places.

Kalimpong has a charm of its own — a beautiful Himalayan town with pleasant weather, green hills, winding roads and an atmosphere that makes you want to slow down and simply look around.

The moment you reach the quieter hilltop areas, everything feels different.

The air feels lighter.

The mountains feel closer.

And even a simple walk becomes part of the experience.

I remember walking for almost a kilometre here, without any particular hurry or destination in mind.

Just walking.

Looking at the hills, feeling the weather and enjoying the silence.

There is something deeply peaceful about walking through a place like this.

Kalimpong is also known for its adventure side, especially paragliding around Deolo Hill, while the surrounding hills offer beautiful opportunities for hiking, village walks and discovering the local food culture.

For a biker, the journey itself is another attraction.

The winding mountain roads, the changing views and the feeling of climbing higher and higher make reaching Kalimpong an experience in itself.

But perhaps the best part is what happens after you stop riding.

You walk.

You breathe.

You look around.

And for a little while, you realise that you don't need to rush anywhere.

Some places are meant to be explored slowly.

Kalimpong is one of them.

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📍 Kalimpong, West Bengal

🌙 A Balcony Above the Hills

Some stays are remembered not because of how luxurious they are, but because of how peaceful they make you feel.

This homestay in Kalimpong was one of those places.

From the balcony, the night opened up into a beautiful view of the hills and the scattered lights below. Sitting there after a long day of riding, with the cool mountain air around me, felt like having my own little corner above the town.

The stay itself was simple, comfortable and well-equipped, with everything needed for a relaxed few days. The owners were warm and welcoming, which made the place feel even more like home.

One of the biggest advantages was its location. The beautiful Buddha statue and the nearby paragliding area were just a short walk away, making it easy to explore the surroundings without even needing the bike.

For a traveller, sometimes the best luxury is simply a comfortable bed, a good balcony, a beautiful view and people who make you feel welcome.

This homestay gave me exactly that.

And if anyone travelling to Kalimpong wants to know about this place, just message me — I’ll be happy to share the address and details.

Some stays give you a room.

Some give you a view.

And a few give you a memory worth carrying home.

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📍 Kalimpong, West Bengal

🍃 A Meal That Came From the Land

Some meals are served on a table.

Some are served with a story.

At this homestay in Kalimpong, I experienced the second kind.

The lady of the house prepared a beautiful local meal for me, including the seasonal green vegetable I had specifically asked her to cook. The vegetables were mostly grown locally, some even coming from the little patch of land around their home.

What made the meal even more special were the homemade pickles. She generously packed several varieties for me to enjoy, each prepared from locally available vegetables and ingredients.

Since she knew I was a chef, our lunch slowly turned into a conversation about food. She even arranged a small table inside the kitchen, where she cooked and explained everything to me — what they grow, what they eat, when they eat it, and how different ingredients become part of their everyday food culture.

Most of the ingredients were local. A few things came from outside, but the soul of the meal was completely home-grown.

She also told me that travellers from different countries often stay with them and genuinely enjoy this simple, traditional food. For international guests, they sometimes adjust the spice levels and flavours, but the essence of the local cooking remains the same.

For me, this was more than just a meal.

As a chef, I have spent years creating food in professional kitchens. But sometimes the most memorable lessons come from a small home kitchen, where food is cooked not for a menu, but for a guest.

And that is the beauty of travelling.

You don't just taste a place.

You taste the land, the people, their stories and their way of life

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📍 Darjeeling – Siliguri Road, West Bengal

🚂 Riding Alongside a Piece of History

While travelling back from Darjeeling towards Siliguri, I chose a different road from the one I had taken while going up.

The route towards Darjeeling from Kalimpong was quite demanding — steep climbs, busy village sections and plenty of challenging bends. But on the return journey, I took the road towards Siliguri, and this turned out to be one of the most enjoyable rides of the trip.

What made it even more special was the railway track running almost alongside the road.

This is the route of the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway — the famous Toy Train and a UNESCO World Heritage railway, opened in 1881. The line climbs through the mountains using some remarkable engineering, including loops and zig-zag reverses, to connect the plains with Darjeeling.

And riding here is an experience of its own.

Sometimes the railway line would disappear around a bend, only to come back beside the road a little later. At times, I was riding with the tracks almost beside me, slowly winding through the mountains.

The road, the railway tracks, the bends, the green hills and the changing mountain weather — everything came together to create a ride that felt almost cinematic.

I even stopped at a few places where the train was expected to pass. At one such spot, I waited for a while and, just as I hoped, the train arrived. I took my time looking at it, photographing it and watching this little piece of history move through the mountains before continuing my ride.

There is something beautiful about seeing engineering and nature existing together like this.

And honestly, if you ever travel to Darjeeling, experience this railway at least once. Whether you ride alongside it on a motorcycle or take the train itself, it is not just transportation.

It is a journey through the history, landscape and soul of the Darjeeling Himalayas

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📍 Darjeeling, West Bengal

🌫️ A Dream I Still Have to Complete

Darjeeling was a place I had heard about since childhood.

I had grown up listening to stories about the British connection, the mountains, the famous Darjeeling tea, the little Himalayan railway — and, of course, the momos.

Later, when I studied Tourism, I even read about the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway and its remarkable journey through the mountains. So coming here on a motorcycle felt like completing several little chapters of an old dream.

I ate the momos.

I followed the railway route.

I saw the famous Toy Train from close quarters.

I watched the tracks winding through the mountains.

And I finally experienced Darjeeling beyond the pages of books.

But there was one thing I couldn't get.

The view.

The weather simply refused to cooperate. Most of the time it was either raining or covered in thick, almost mysterious fog. The mountains kept hiding behind the clouds, and the clear Darjeeling panorama I had imagined for years never appeared.

Perhaps I chose the wrong season.

Perhaps the mountains simply wanted me to come back.

Because some places don't reveal everything in a single visit.

So Darjeeling, this isn't goodbye.

I'll come back again — on a clearer day, under a clearer sky, to see the Darjeeling I have carried in my imagination since childhood.

Some journeys complete a dream.

And some leave one beautiful reason to return.

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📍 Near Darjeeling, West Bengal

🌤️ Almost Clear, But Not Quite

As I moved further away from Darjeeling, the weather slowly began to change.

The clouds started opening up, the fog became lighter and, for a while, the mountains finally began to reveal themselves. It felt like the weather was giving me a small glimpse of what I had been waiting to see.

But by then, the best views were already behind me.

There was still something beautiful about the landscape — the misty hills, scattered houses and the soft mountain light — but it wasn't quite the Darjeeling I had imagined.

Sometimes a journey gives you exactly what you ask for.

And sometimes it gives you just enough to make you want to come back.

Darjeeling did the second.

I may not have seen it in all its glory this time, but perhaps that is the reason I'll return — to walk its streets again, breathe its mountain air, ride alongside its historic railway and finally see those famous Himalayan views on a clear day.

Some places are not meant to be completed in one visit.

They are meant to be felt, remembered, and returned to

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📍 Singell Tea Estate, Kurseong, Darjeeling, West Bengal

🍃 A Cup of Tea, A Story of Its Own

For a long time, I had wanted to visit a real tea estate — not just as a traveller, but as a chef and, honestly, as a tea lover.

This was Singell Tea Estate, one of the historic tea estates of the Darjeeling hills. Tea estates like this are not simply gardens; they are complete worlds where tea is grown, leaves are carefully plucked, processed and prepared before finding their way to tea lovers around the world. Singell itself dates back to the British era and is closely connected with the long history of Darjeeling tea.

I was lucky that the manager took some time out of his busy schedule to sit with me and explain the world of tea. From the leaf to the cup, from cultivation to processing, he patiently shared his knowledge. For a chef who loves understanding ingredients at their source, it was a beautiful learning experience.

And then came an unexpected gesture.

He had kept some green tea for himself and, before I left, gave me a portion as a gift — simply because we had shared a good conversation about tea.

I carried that tea with me for many days, enjoyed it myself, and shared it with others along the journey.

Darjeeling tea is globally known for its distinctive aroma and flavour, and its GI-protected identity gives it a special place in the world of tea. Its high-altitude gardens and careful orthodox production contribute to its premium character and value.

For me, though, the real value was not in the price of the tea.

It was in the knowledge, the kindness of a stranger, and the experience of seeing where that beautiful cup of tea begins.

Sometimes, the best souvenirs are not bought.

They are gifted — and carried home with a story.

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🍃 The Art Hidden in a Tea Leaf

Inside the tea estate, I found this simple chart explaining something I had never really thought about before — that even a tea plant has its own hierarchy of quality.

A tea shoot is not simply “a leaf.” The position, age and tenderness of the leaf matter. At the very top is the tender bud, followed by the young leaves. The finest traditional plucking standard is known as “two leaves and a bud” — the tender bud with the two youngest leaves below it.

As you move further down the stem, the leaves become older, tougher and less delicate. They can still be used in tea production, but they do not carry the same tenderness and character as the youngest shoots.

And this is where the real craftsmanship begins.

The pluckers are not simply collecting leaves; they are selecting the right part of the plant, again and again, with remarkable consistency. Those tiny differences eventually influence the aroma, flavour, colour and character of the tea.

The magic continues after plucking — withering, rolling, oxidation and drying — where the green leaf is carefully transformed into the tea we finally brew.

For a chef, this felt surprisingly familiar.

Just as we choose the best part of an ingredient before cooking, a tea maker begins by choosing the right part of the plant.

The best cup of tea doesn't begin in the teapot.

It begins with the right leaf.

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🍃 The Road to a Dream

Standing above the tea estate, I almost decided not to go down.

It had rained, the trail was slippery and rough, and what lay ahead was hardly a road — more like a narrow mountain path. Taking a heavy motorcycle down that trail was an adventure in itself. And then came the bigger challenge: bringing it back up. At some stretches, I honestly wondered whether even first gear would be enough to climb it.

But there was one thought that kept pushing me forward.

I had always wanted to sit inside a real tea estate, meet someone who understood tea, and learn about it from the source.

So I went down.

And what I received at the bottom — the knowledge, the conversation, and the time shared by the manager — made every difficult metre of that trail completely worth it.

That day reminded me of something simple: knowledge rarely comes without effort, and the experiences worth remembering usually begin where comfort ends.

Sometimes you simply have to take the risk, step into the unknown and say, “Let’s see what happens.”

Because if you keep waiting for the perfect road, you may never reach the place you were dreaming about.

Listen to that inner voice.

Take the first step.

Because sometimes, the adventure begins exactly where the road ends

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☕ A Dosa, A River & A Little Bit of Peace

On the banks of the Teesta, somewhere along the road towards Gangtok, I found a place I simply couldn't rush past.

This was Dosa Point — a small Army-managed eating joint at Bardang, Sikkim, serving simple South Indian food like idli, vada and dosa, along with tea and coffee.

The setting, however, was anything but ordinary.

You sit there with a plate of hot food, a cup of coffee, the sound of the Teesta flowing nearby, and mountains quietly standing around you.

And the best part?

The food is simple, the prices are reasonable, and the surroundings are incredibly peaceful. Knowing that your meal also supports an Army welfare initiative makes the experience feel even more special.

I am almost always short of time on a journey like this. But there are certain places where I simply refuse to compromise.

I sit down.

I eat slowly.

I have my coffee.

And I let the clock worry about itself.

Because how often do you get to enjoy good vegetarian food beside the Teesta, surrounded by mountains, in such complete peace?

For a few moments, the journey can wait.

Some stops are not about food alone.

They are about the peace you find while having it

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🥟 A Momo Stop on the Way Down

Coming down from Darjeeling towards Siliguri, I stopped at the iconic Kurseong Tourist Lodge — a government-run tourism property that has been welcoming travellers in the hills for years. Today, it is known as Roudra Chhaya Tourism Property under the West Bengal Tourism Development Corporation.

The place has that old-world mountain charm, and its restaurant has become a familiar stop for travellers moving between Darjeeling and Siliguri. The food is reasonably priced, and the famous momos are one of the reasons people keep coming back.

I had spent my time in Darjeeling exploring the place, but somehow had not eaten enough momos — and that simply didn't feel right.

So I ordered a plate.

Steaming hot momos arrived with a spicy chutney on the side, and that first bite brought back exactly what I had been looking for — the simple, comforting taste of the hills.

There were also groups of foreign travellers around me, including a group of Italians. A little conversation, a few smiles, some exchange of stories — and suddenly a simple food stop became another small cultural meeting on the journey.

That is what I love about travelling.

Sometimes you stop for food.

Sometimes you leave with a memory.

And sometimes, a plate of momos is all you need to know that you have truly arrived in the hills.

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📍 Darjeeling, West Bengal

🥟 The Momo Master & The Taipo I Never Got to Taste

Darjeeling introduced me to many things, but this was something I had never really understood before — Taipo, a much larger, softer and fluffier cousin of the familiar momo.

It looks like a giant momo, but the experience is quite different. The outer dough is thicker and more bread-like, giving it that wonderfully light and airy texture. In Darjeeling and the surrounding Himalayan food culture, Taipo is known as a big stuffed steamed bun, often prepared with a non-vegetarian filling.

The lady in this picture was, in my eyes, a true Momo Master.

She patiently explained to me how these different Himalayan dumplings are made, how the dough is handled, how the filling is prepared and how small changes in technique can completely change the final texture.

I was especially fascinated by the use of baking powder in the dough, which helps create that softer, lighter and more open texture compared with the thinner wrapper of a regular momo. Similar baking-powder-based doughs are documented in Darjeeling-style momo preparations as well.

Unfortunately, there was one problem.

That day, they were preparing only the non-vegetarian version, and I could not taste it. I had every intention of coming back another day to try the vegetarian version — but the journey kept moving, and somehow that second visit never happened.

So this photograph remains a little unfinished story.

As a chef, sometimes the most interesting part of travel is not just eating something.

It is standing beside someone who knows the craft, listening to them explain it, watching their hands work, and realising how much knowledge is hidden inside something that looks so simple.

I may have missed the taste of that Taipo,

but I didn't miss the lesson behind it.

And perhaps that is why some food memories stay with you even when you never actually got to taste them