From Forts to the Ganga: A Journey Through India

 This journey began in Hyderabad, where work brought me first. On our last day there, we slipped into vacation mode and visited the palace — its architecture a reminder of the grandeur of the Nizams. We also walked around the bustling Charminar area, weaving through shops and colors, picking up little treasures before the night closed in. As if the city wanted to send us off with a touch of cinema, I even had the chance to meet Ramya Krishnan, the actress who played Rajamata Sivagami in Baahubali. To see her in person, after watching her command the screen, was surreal.

Falaknuma

Charminar

From Hyderabad, we flew to Mumbai — the city where I was born and raised. Coming home always awakens old cravings, and within hours I was indulging in the street food that never loses its magic — vada pav, pav bhaji, ragda patties. Each bite brought back memories of growing up here, and I realized once again that no matter where life takes me, Mumbai’s flavors will always feel like home.

That weekend, we visited the Elephanta Caves, a UNESCO World Heritage Site just a ferry ride away from the Gateway of India. Dating back to the 5th–6th centuries, these rock-cut caves are dedicated primarily to Lord Shiva. Walking inside, I was struck by the sheer artistry carved into stone more than a thousand years ago — the most famous sculpture being the Trimurti, a 20-foot depiction of Shiva as creator, preserver, and destroyer. Standing in front of it, I couldn’t help but feel awe at the devotion and craftsmanship that has survived centuries.

Elephanta Caves

My  Birth city

From Mumbai, we flew to Delhi. My coworker and his girlfriend, visiting India for the first time, made their way to the Taj Mahal, while I stayed back for work during the day. That evening, I went to the Hazrat Nizamuddin Dargah. Built in the 14th century, this shrine is the resting place of the great Sufi saint Nizamuddin Auliya. For more than 700 years, people have come here believing their prayers will be answered. Standing there with my own prayer for healing, I felt a sense of calm and faith.

The next morning, we left Delhi for Rishikesh with a short stop in Haridwar. Haridwar, one of Hinduism’s seven holiest cities, sits where the Ganga first enters the plains. I had hoped to pray in peace, but instead, the constant pressure to pay money took away the stillness I sought.

The drive stretched to nearly five to six hours, and by the time we reached Rishikesh, it was evening. Known as the Yoga Capital of the World, Rishikesh has long been a place for seekers and sages. We had hoped to catch the famous Ganga aarti, but we missed it by just five minutes. Standing on the riverbank, I felt a pang of disappointment — so close, yet too late. Still, the sight of the river flowing against the backdrop of the Himalayas brought its own calm, and I promised myself I’d return one day to witness it properly.

Our stay at The Great Ganga reminded me that true hospitality isn’t about stars. The food was simple and good, the service warm, and the view of the river at sunrise felt like a blessing. Some of us went for Ayurvedic massages, while my coworker and his girlfriend had a yoga teacher come to the hotel for a private session — each of us experiencing Rishikesh in our own way.

Before leaving, I wanted to revisit a childhood memory at Laxman Jhula. The suspension bridge, originally built in 1929, marks the spot where legend says Lakshman, the younger brother of Lord Rama, crossed the Ganga on a rope bridge during their exile. Though closed when I visited, just being there felt meaningful. We wandered nearby and stepped into a small shop, where the shopkeeper spoke passionately about rudraksha beads, crystals, and traditional tools, weaving history into every object. Seeing the Himalayas in the distance was breathtaking, and I couldn’t help but think of Kedarnath and Badrinath — shrines that are said to call you when the time is right.

That evening, we flew into Jaipur. By the time we arrived, it was late, so we checked into the Four Points. It was fine for an overnight stay — comfortable, though nothing special.

The next morning, we drove to Ajmer. At its heart lies the Ajmer Sharif Dargah, built in the 13th century as the resting place of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti, one of the most revered Sufi saints of India. For over 800 years, people of all faiths have come here seeking blessings. Thanks to a friend’s connection, we were guided inside and allowed to stand in prayer for nearly twenty minutes without interruption. The stillness was powerful. Tears rolled down my face as I stood there, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

From Ajmer, we continued to Pushkar, a town wrapped around its sacred lake. Pushkar is one of the oldest pilgrimage sites in India, and at its heart lies the Brahma Temple — believed to be the only prominent temple in the world dedicated to Lord Brahma, the creator in the Hindu trinity.

The temple itself dates back to the 14th century, though legends say the site’s sanctity goes back thousands of years. According to mythology, Lord Brahma performed a great yajna (sacrifice) here, which is why the lake and town are considered so holy. As a result, Pushkar is often called the “Tirtha-Raj,” or “king of pilgrim sites.”

Stepping into the temple, with its marble floors, red spire, and images of swans (the sacred vahana of Brahma), I felt a rare sense of reverence. It struck me how unusual it is — across all of India with its countless temples, very few are devoted to Brahma. Listening to the chants inside, knowing this was one of the only places in the world where Brahma is worshipped so directly, made the experience profound and unforgettable.

Outside, the ghats around Pushkar Lake were alive with pilgrims circling, offering prayers, and dipping into the waters. Standing by the lake as the bells rang in the distance, I felt a timelessness — like faith and history had been woven together in this one small town

We returned to Jaipur in the afternoon and headed straight to the Amber Fort, a massive fortress built in the late 16th century by Raja Man Singh. Sitting on a hill overlooking Maota Lake, the fort is a blend of Hindu and Mughal architecture, with intricate carvings and expansive courtyards that once hosted royal ceremonies.

Amber Fort

Later, I went antique shopping at a store I had trusted before, but this time I was left disappointed. Hidden shipping charges and an unfair experience soured what had been a long-standing favorite, and I knew I wouldn’t return there again. Still, Jaipur itself was alive with color. Walking through the city square, I watched local artisans at work — block printing fabrics, shaping jewelry, painting by hand. Their crafts are what keep the city’s traditions breathing, as much a part of Jaipur’s heritage as its palaces and forts.

The next morning, we boarded a flight to Jaisalmer, the Golden City. Its fort, built in 1156, rises out of the desert like a mirage, its yellow sandstone walls glowing under the sun. We went straight to the palace and city square, wandering through courtyards and admiring the intricate carvings.

After lunch, we drove to our camp-style hotel in the desert.

The rooms were tents, simple but comfortable. The food was nothing to boast of, but the atmosphere was magical — cultural performances at night, the desert wind carrying songs across the dunes, and a sky full of stars.

The camel ride was the highlight. My friend and I laughed until our stomachs hurt as our camel strutted and misbehaved more than the others, determined to put on a show. Watching the sun sink into the desert that evening, I felt joy in its purest form — silly, lighthearted, unforgettable.

I left the next morning for Mumbai to catch my flight, while others stayed behind to explore more of Jaisalmer’s havelis, the grand merchant houses carved with astonishing detail.

Looking back, this journey had everything — faith and frustration, laughter and tears, peace and playfulness. Hyderabad gave me a touch of grandeur, Mumbai gave me comfort, Delhi gave me hope, Haridwar gave me a lesson, Rishikesh gave me simplicity, Ajmer gave me stillness, Pushkar gave me rarity, Jaipur gave me vibrance (and a little disappointment), and Jaisalmer gave me joy. Together, they made this more than a vacation -  they made it part of my healing, my belief, and my story.

What I didn’t know then was that this journey was also preparing me for something deeper — a return to my roots, to the Navagraha temples of my childhood. That next trip became less about travel and more about surrender, healing, and faith.