While travelling in Kalimpong last year, sitting in a local café having an evening snack I came across a rather nice looking glossy travel magazine. I was rather surprised when I saw that it was published out of Sikkim. Both the content and the photographs were of better quality than a lot of other travel mags I’ve seen floating around. I promptly wrote down the email ID, making a note to contact them once I got back to Bangalore.

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An Australian woman often described as the world’s oldest blogger has died at the age of 108 after posting a final message about her ailing health but how she sang “a happy song, as I do every day.”

Not that I want to live to be 108, but I can quite picture myself in my old age, still blogging, actually :-)

Read it here.

If you want a short break, but don’t want to venture out too far from the city, Nandi Hills is a good option. The only problem though is that all sorts of crowds land up there by mid-morning and it seems more like a mela out there during the weekends.

The best time to visit it very early morning, when the mist is still clinging on to the sides of the hill and you literally feel like you’re in a hill station. Sometimes, the mist stays on till about 10 am making it a rather cool place.
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When Shankar called saying he was going to the Wildlife Rescue and Rehabilitation Centre (WRRC) and would I like to go along, I jumped at the opportunity. The last time I went was with Usha and it’s been a while.

A couple of rehabilitated jackals in their own enclosure

It’s always amazing to see Saleem at work – whether he is handling a cobra or a small squirrel or a crow pheasant – his way with animals is admirable. His work at the Bannerghatta Rehabilitation Centre (BRC) housed under the WRRC is well-known, especially amongst nature and animal lovers.
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I’ve developed a liking for long lazy Sunday brunches lately. It’s a nice way to bond with friends and spend time over something that I love and if you’ve read my blog on and off you won’t have any doubts – eating, of course.

I mean what can be better than 3-4 hours of conversation and chatter over prawns, dum biryani, dahi puri, aloo chat and marshmallows with chocolate sauce! I like the idea of catching up with friends and dear ones over tom yum soup. It gives me a nice warm feeling inside. And unlimited martinis. And sparkling wine.
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So an old aquaintance from my Mumbai days called when I was browsing through books at Oxford today after my nth ankle therapy session at Manipal.

He’s coming to Bangalore and wants to meet me for dinner. I might be travelling out I tell him. He can’t believe his luck! It’s about the 4th time he’s going to miss me.

G is an odd guy – he’s a farmer (!) with lots of money (somewhere in remote Tamil Nadu) but he also works as a journalist because that’s his passion. He also falls in (platonic) love with (almost) every single pretty (and not so pretty) face he meets. He’s also happily married. How you can love several women (again platonically) at the same time, I have no clue! I haven’t understood how the man works as yet.
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A weekend at magical Fringe Ford – a beautiful homestay nestled amongst the hills in Wayanad.

It’s one of those magical places you go to and don’t want to come back. At least, I didn’t.

The road to Fringe Ford is a long and winding one. Around 5 kms through coffee plantations to your right and hills to the left. It goes on and on and you start peering around every corner to catch sight of your destination. Except that it’s where you least expect it. Down below, between the clearing of the tall trees, you get a teasing glimpse of a cottage sitting pretty in the centre, surrounded by green all around.

This is Fringe Ford – “Get lost where no one’s gonna know. No Where to rush, but everywhere to go. No stress, no traffic, no road.” Just perfect.
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So, I was just packing up to leave yoga class, when my instructor brandishes a sheet of paper in front of me.

“What is this?” I ask.

He just pushes it into my hand without answering.

On the top, it reads, Kareena Kapoor’s diet.

I read it twice and then look at him with a questioning expression.

“How long have you been doing yoga,” he asks.

“Ermm…. About… 6-7 months,” I answer hesitantly, not liking where this is heading.
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