Lavasa’s story is not just a story of an environmental disaster or an economic nightmare, it is a cautionary tale of the failure of human hubris and a reminder that it may be easy to build a perfect city, but it is damn near impossible to buy its heart.

While trekking in Ladakh, I find myself buried waist-deep in debris. This is it, I tell myself. This is how I’ll go out, amid the oversold beauty of this high-altitude desert, as a slight disappointment to my mother and no book contract. I leave behind a flimsy legacy of FabIndia kurtas and Nicobar dresses.

Much before I was spoilt for choice by in-flight entertainment options, I’ve enjoyed a dubbed version of The Transporter with a Hindi-speaking Jason Statham just as much as a double-header of Hungama and Hulchul on bus rides. As a broke college student with adventurous dreams but limited means, the movies played in the bus quickly became my favourite part of travel.

Guilty of not spending any time with my parents, I decided to go on a beach holiday with them. I’d wake up at 8 am, have a healthy breakfast, go sightseeing, and call it a day by 10 pm, without having a drop of daaru. In what universe does this qualify as vacation itinerary?

Travelling isn’t a leisure activity anymore. In 2019, it is a competitive sport. And social media is where the games are played. But this pressure to be constantly travelling, irrespective of deadlines and limited leaves, is sucking the joy out of wanderlust. Maybe some weekends are meant to just Neftlix and Chill.

Road trips are not about open-air convertibles and flying scarfs. They are about co-existing with cramps in stuffy cars that turn seemingly normal friends into tantrum-throwing monsters.

A new study holds tourism responsible for nearly a tenth of the world’s carbon emissions. It’s made me question my own rapacious record with mindless travel, brainwashed by propaganda that only a well-travelled life was worthwhile.

Bullet riders and road trips are like Indian politicians and black money – all talk and no action. After using it to ride to and fro from their office all week, their grand weekend voyages amount to a grocery shopping trip to the marketplace.

Your childhood dream of spending a night inside an igloo is about to come true right here in Manali. Welcome to India's first igloo hotel.

I went on a trip alone and realised that 10 minutes of “me time” was all that I needed.

My boyfriend and I love having sex in the wild. We now plan to make an eco-porn video – to raise donations and help the environment.

Discovering travel in my early 20s was truly a great thing. It allowed me to see beyond the confines of culture, tradition, food, and gender, but after a decade of globetrotting, the places, the people, and the people of the places, all start to feel like carefully curated prototypes of each other.

In Shillong, time is set aside to take naps and dream. These dreams are then interpreted and bets are placed on archery.

I feel deep-rooted love for the country every time I travel abroad. This inexplicable pull toward India, lies somewhere between homesickness and an inherent obligation toward my motherland – that sweet spot of fondness and affection.

The Nainital of my childhood and that of my daughter’s childhood are two very different places. The waters at Naini Lake are already 18 feet below normal. Very soon there may not be a lake left.