Freedom on Two Wheels: Breakfast Ride to Siddipet
Nothing compares to the calm I feel when I’m on a motorcycle. With the wind in my hair and the world fading away, it’s like floating in a peaceful bubble. All my worries, both good and bad, just melt away. What’s left is the open road, the cool breeze, and the gentle rustle of the trees. Riding gives me a magical sense of freedom, like I’m in control of my own journey. Last weekend was a blast with an amazing group of riders @royal_wanderlust_! We took a short but thrilling breakfast ride to Siddipet, and every curve in the road felt like a fresh adventure. The camaraderie among us made the experience even more special!
Rubal Saluja
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First Trek to Malana: Hidden Trails, High Hopes & Mountain Magic
In 2012, we leaped from our MBA classrooms into the bustling corporate world of Delhi/NCR. The salaries weren’t spectacular, but they fueled our dreams of weekend getaways. Himachal was the preferred choice, with easily available buses and plenty of budget stays. We visited Manali, Kasol, McLeod Ganj, and Tosh on subsequent trips. One day, while browsing some random travel blogs, I stumbled upon Malana—known for its breathtaking views and fascinating stories, some exaggerated by social media, along with its infamous reputation for cream. That was enough to convince us for our next mountain escapade. As we settled into the bus, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, which faded at the thought of no office, no calls, no late nights—just me and the mountains. After a day in Kasol, we geared up for our trek to Malana. Thankfully, the road was fairly accessible, though the journey from Bhuntar involved navigating narrow, winding paths with a few rough patches. Upon reaching Malana Gate, we discovered we had to trek about a kilometre down to the village. The nearby riverbed beckoned us for a refreshing break. After enjoying the river, we embarked on the main trek. The path was steep and lacked proper steps, turning the ascent into a genuine workout. I found myself gasping for breath every few steps, taking multiple breaks along the way. Hours felt like an eternity, but finally, we reached the top. When we arrived in Malana, we were welcomed by a mysterious wonderland. The community is deeply orthodox, steeped in rich traditions and customs. As we wandered in, we encountered a sign that read, “No Touching & Photo of Holy Place,” a stark reminder of the village’s strict rules. Despite our initial hesitation, friendly locals welcomed us. We shared a simple meal of delicious Maggi at a cozy little house, along with some local specialties. After a few hours of exploration, we reluctantly began our descent, each of us promising to return. Malana had captivated us with its charm and mystery. The journey back was filled with laughter, stories, and multiple breaks. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the unforgettable adventure.
Rubal Saluja
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Hampi’s Healing Sound Session: A Serene Morning at Hippie Village
Woke up in Hampi… a little too high, a lot too late. The forest musical healing session in Hippie Village was supposed to start at 6 AM. We opened our eyes at 8 — groggy, slightly tripping on the Hampi vibe — but something told us not to miss it. So we rushed. And thank god we did. The healer, @gali_hampi — smiled when we arrived. That kind of calm, knowing smile that says, “Don’t worry, you’re not late. You’re exactly on time.” The session was technically over, but he invited us in anyway — into his small, warm sound room. No intro. No build-up. Just sound. Pure, moving sound. The singing bowl came first — soft and steady, like the earth letting out a breath. Then the flute — playful, like the wind teasing old temple walls. The handpan followed. Mesmerizing. Circular. Like rhythm with a heartbeat. A gentle guitar, strumming emotion into the air. And then… the didgeridoo. I'd never heard one in person before. The moment it began, I felt it. That deep, ancient sound didn’t just fill the room — it filled me. Like standing barefoot on stone and feeling it hum beneath you. And there were more… A rainstick that felt like monsoon arriving, A wooden frog that croaked softly, Tiny bells, wind chimes — layers of nature, turned into sound. We sat still. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Some places whisper peace. Hampi sings it.
Rubal Saluja
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