Travel

The Narcotics Control Bureau (NCB) has warned Indian travellers going to Saudi Arabia to get permission first if they intend to bring medicines to the country. The alert came after Saudi Arabia launched a new electronic service platform to regulate the clearance of medicines for personal use by people coming to or going from the Kingdom.

NCB said that there are medicines which are fully legal in India, but they may be restricted or even prohibited under the drug control regulations in Saudi Arabia. If a traveller has such a medicine without prior approval and is found, he or she may be subjected to regulatory enforcement, including confiscation of the medicines, imposition of fines, or legal interrogation at the entry points.

The advisory message is mainly targeted at the Indian tourists, business travellers, and pilgrims going for Umrah or Hajj, who often carry prescription medicines for chronic diseases. NCB warned that having medicines in a quantity more than allowed or without proper documents could be punished according to the law in Saudi Arabia.

Saudi Arabia’s newly launched electronic service platform allows travellers to apply in advance for permission to carry medicines for personal use. The system is aimed at enhancing border security while providing clarity to visitors regarding permissible pharmaceutical items. The NCB has advised travellers to familiarise themselves with the official list of restricted and prohibited medicines published by Saudi authorities before undertaking travel.

"Certain medicines that are commonly used in India may be classified as controlled substances in Saudi Arabia. Travellers should definitely ensure that they are compliant with the local regulations so that they do not face any inconveniences or legal complications, " the NCB said in its advisory.

Officials gave the instruction that travellers must have with them valid prescriptions, medical certificates, and approval documents when they are travelling. It is also advised that medicines be in their original packaging with clear labels indicating the composition and dosage.

The advisory is coming when traveling between India and Saudi Arabia has been increasing gradually, the reasons being religious tourism, employment, and bilateral engagement. With Saudi Arabia putting more regulations in place for pharmaceuticals, Indian travellers are being instructed to plan their trips early and finish all their formalities well before their journey.

The NCB also said that it is very important to be aware of drug regulations at the destination you are going to if you want to have safe and trouble- free international travel, especially to countries that have strict laws regarding narcotics and pharmaceuticals.

The road to Pithoragarh has a subtle effect on the mind of the traveler. With the mountains getting steeper, mobile signals disappearing and the dark sky gradually taking over its age, old reign, it dawns on you that you are venturing not only through geography but also through time.Here, in Uttarakhand’s easternmost district where darkness is still natural and silence still earned, the stars no longer remain distant spectators. They are now the destination.

Perched amid these Himalayan folds, a new astronomical observatory in Pithoragarh is rewriting how we think of travel in the mountains — not as an escape from the world, but as an encounter with the universe. Conceived by the District Tourism Department in partnership with astro-tourism pioneers Starscapes, the observatory marks Uttarakhand’s decisive step into science tourism, where wonder is measured not in selfies, but in constellations.

Just as the sun was setting and the sky was changing colors, the Tourism Minister of Uttarakhand, Satpal Maharaj, with district officials, was there to make the inaugural event successful. This was a dream that we had been nurturing for a long time, said Maharaj, reflecting the silent ambition of the project by his words. Astro, tourism is not just a science promotion tool. It generates jobs, money, and a new kind of bond between people and nature. More observatories, he promised, will follow — mapping the state not just by roads, but by stars.

What makes the Pithoragarh observatory exceptional is not only its telescopes or contemporary design, but its community-first philosophy. This is not a sealed scientific enclave. It breathes with the village around it. Starscapes has initiated an Astro Guide Training Programme where they have recruited and trained the local youth to not only operate the telescopes, but also conduct professional stargazing sessions and narrate the night sky in a confident and empathetic manner. The development of skills in this case is not something that has been added on; it is, in fact, the very core of the project.

“Pithoragarh has something increasingly rare — truly dark skies,” the District Tourism Development Officer explains. “Our goal is to make it a responsible astro-tourism destination where the community benefits directly.” In a time when tourism often extracts more than it gives, this model feels quietly radical.

As darkness deepens, the observatory comes alive. A telescope turns. A young local guide explains Saturn’s rings. A child gasps. In these moments, science sheds its intimidating cloak and becomes intimate again. Educational programmes, student sessions, and public astronomy nights ensure the observatory is as much a classroom as it is a travel experience.

Hem Sharma of Starscapes puts it simply: “Astro-tourism works when world-class infrastructure is matched with trained local talent.” The result, he believes, is not just better visitor experience, but sustainable livelihoods rooted in place.

In Pithoragarh, tourism is no longer only about reaching a viewpoint by day. It is about staying up at night. About slowing down. About remembering that long before borders, hotels and itineraries, humans travelled by the stars.

And now, thanks to this observatory, travellers can do that once again — not as explorers of land, but as witnesses to the cosmos.

India’s most famous destinations are no longer escapes. They are endurance tests. Long weekends now come with stalled traffic, inflated hotel prices, and viewpoints so crowded you barely see the view. The idea of a peaceful holiday often collapses somewhere between a traffic jam and a packed café menu.

But the good news is this: India still knows how to keep secrets. Just a short detour away from the country’s most visited places are villages and small towns where mornings are quiet, conversations are unhurried, and nature hasn’t been turned into a backdrop for selfies.

If what you’re really craving is space, silence, and a sense of discovery, here are the offbeat destinations you should choose instead.

Cancel Kasol. Go to Kalga.

Kasol once felt like a Himalayan refuge. Today, it feels like a busy high-street with mountains attached. Cross over to Kalga, tucked deeper into the Parvati Valley, and the mood shifts instantly.

Here, apple orchards stretch lazily across slopes, wooden homes glow in the afternoon sun, and trails disappear into forests without signboards. There are no party cafés or loud playlists—just simple food, crisp air, and uninterrupted views. Kalga is the kind of place where days blur into walks, journaling, and doing absolutely nothing.

Cancel Darjeeling. Go to Tinchuley.

Darjeeling’s iconic charm often gets lost in queues, traffic, and overbooked hotels. Tinchuley, a short drive away, feels like the hills before tourism learned to shout.

Expect misty mornings, tea gardens rolling into the distance, and clear views of the Kanchenjunga range on good days. Homestays dominate here, which means meals cooked with care and conversations that linger. It’s not about sightseeing—it’s about slowing down.

Cancel Rishikesh. Go to Kanatal.

Rishikesh is now permanently crowded, its spiritual calm diluted by noise and numbers. Kanatal, higher up in Uttarakhand, offers the same Himalayan stillness without the chaos.

Surrounded by forests and apple orchards, Kanatal is perfect for sunrise walks, quiet evenings, and unstructured time. It’s also a gentle base for short treks and village exploration—ideal if you want mountains without the mess.

Cancel Ooty. Go to Kotagiri.

Ooty’s traffic and tourist rush can ruin the hill-station mood. Kotagiri, in the Nilgiris, feels like what hill travel should be.

Cool weather, open landscapes, endless tea estates, and walking trails that actually stay quiet—Kotagiri is best explored on foot or cycle. It’s a favourite among travellers who value nature over novelty and prefer long walks to crowded viewpoints.

Cancel Shimla. Go to Shoja.

Shimla feels packed even on weekdays. Shoja, perched high in Himachal’s Seraj Valley, offers raw Himalayan beauty without distractions.

Dense forests, wooden cottages, and winter snow make Shoja ideal for travellers seeking isolation. There are no malls or queues here—just mountains, silence, and skies that feel closer.

Cancel Lonavala. Go to Bhimashankar.

Lonavala fills up fast, especially during monsoon. Bhimashankar, part of a wildlife sanctuary, offers waterfalls, forest stays, and deep greenery with spiritual significance.

This is where nature lovers go when they want more than quick viewpoints. Trails are quieter, mornings are misty, and the forest feels alive.

Cancel Jaipur. Go to Bundi.

Jaipur’s popularity often overshadows nearby gems. Bundi delivers forts, stepwells, and blue houses without the tourist overload.

Bundi feels lived-in and unpolished in the best way. Walking its lanes gives you history without crowds, heritage without filters, and a city that still belongs to its people.

Why Offbeat Travel Matters Now

Choosing lesser-known destinations helps you travel slower, spend less, support local communities, and reduce environmental pressure. More importantly, it restores what travel is meant to offer—connection.

Offbeat travel isn’t about rejecting famous places forever. It’s about balance. About choosing peace over popularity, and curiosity over checklists.

India still has places where mornings are quiet, roads are empty, and journeys feel personal. This season, skip the obvious. Take the road less travelled—it usually leads to better stories.

I’ve always believed that the real story of India doesn’t announce itself loudly. It hides in railway platforms, street names, food habits—and sometimes, in the last three letters of a city’s name.

On long train journeys, as station boards flash past—Kanpur, Jaipur, Udaipur… Ahmedabad, Hyderabad—a quiet pattern begins to emerge. These cities sound related, as if they belong to extended families scattered across the subcontinent. Once you notice it, you can’t unsee it. And once you start asking why, India slowly opens up another layer of itself.

The answers lie in two deceptively simple suffixes: ‘pur’ and ‘abad’.

Walking into a ‘Pur’

When I first walked through Jaipur’s old city, its pink walls glowing softly in the afternoon light, I felt it instantly—the sense of enclosure, of intention. This wasn’t a city that grew accidentally. It was designed, protected, planned. That’s when the word ‘pur’ makes sense.

‘Pur’ comes from ancient Sanskrit and originally meant a fortress or walled settlement. In early India, power needed walls. Safety needed stone. A king’s authority needed a physical centre from which it could radiate. A pur was not just a place to live—it was a statement.

This word is so old it appears in the Rigveda, long before maps were drawn the way we know them. As kingdoms rose and fell, rulers stamped their identity onto new cities by attaching their names to this powerful suffix.

• Jaipur, founded by Maharaja Jai Singh II
• Udaipur, built by Maharana Udai Singh
• Jodhpur, established by Rao Jodha
  
  

Each ‘pur’ carries a king’s ambition, a strategic eye, and a defensive mindset. Even today, these cities retain a certain gravity—palaces at the centre, old walls tracing forgotten boundaries, streets that curve inward like they’re still guarding something.

When you stand in a ‘pur’, you’re standing inside a memory of sovereignty.

Entering an ‘Abad’

Then there are cities that feel different the moment you arrive. Hyderabad, for instance, doesn’t feel enclosed—it feels expansive. Alive. Flowing. There’s water somewhere, even if you don’t see it immediately.

That’s because ‘abad’ comes from Persian, and its root word ‘aab’ means water. In a land shaped by monsoons and droughts, water meant survival. An abad was a place that could sustain life—a settled, flourishing habitation.

When Persian culture and later the Mughals shaped India’s urban landscape, cities were no longer just fortresses. They were meant to thrive—to trade, to host poets and craftsmen, to grow gardens and markets.

• Ahmedabad, founded by Sultan Ahmed Shah
• Hyderabad, named after Sultan Hyder
• Firozabad, established by Firoz Shah
  
  

An ‘abad’ wasn’t about walls—it was about continuity. These cities were built near rivers, lakes, and irrigation systems. They promised prosperity, not just protection.

Travel through an ‘abad’ and you feel movement—languages mixing, bazaars spilling onto streets, food cultures layered over centuries. These are cities meant to be lived in, not just ruled.

A Detour Through ‘Ganj’

And then, almost inevitably, you stumble into a ‘ganj’.

Every city has one. You hear it before you see it—the honking, bargaining, clatter of shutters. ‘Ganj’ originally meant a storehouse or treasury, but over time it became synonymous with markets and commerce.

• Daryaganj in Delhi, once a riverside trading hub
• Hazratganj in Lucknow, still pulsing as the city’s heart
  
  

A ‘ganj’ tells you where people came together—not for power or permanence, but for exchange.

Reading India, One Ending at a Time

The next time you glance at a map or book a ticket, pause at the name. Ask what kind of city it wanted to be when it was born—a fortress, a home, or a marketplace.

In India, even syllables travel through time. And if you listen closely, cities still tell you who founded them, what they valued, and how they imagined the future—long before you arrived with your suitcase.

The issues of infrastructure, cleanliness, and the behavior of the public have been debated online through social media postings by an Indian citizen who compared the daylong experience in Sri Lanka with that in India.

The forum posting appeared on the “X” forum, where the individual, named Ish, posted insights into why he was troubled after his return to “Delhi” after visiting “Sri Lanka.” He noted that both destinations are not very easy to ignore from the perspective of differences.

"Just reached Delhi back from Sri Lanka, and I am numb," he said, adding, "We Indians do not have to look up to Europe when we have a place with better air, roads, infrastructure and civic sense sitting next to us."

The video not only created an impact on the screen but on the page too, as more than two lakh views came pouring, along with comments from people with experiences in their journey.

Many people agreed with Ish on this. A person had posted, “Once you enter Sri Lanka, you can feel the contrast immediately. Well-made roads, cleanliness, and fresh air abound. Although people strike a familiarity chord, a feeling of strangeness prevails in this environment.” “This is exactly what I experienced after my visit back to SL. We could be very proud of our brand economy worldwide, but then SL bypassed the whole thing and introduced a simpler, cleaner, more dignified, and more charming life. Small towns with small markets, but large chill.” Another user posted. A third voice added, “I just came back from Thailand last week and Sri Lanka in July. The point is, we have a population of 150 crores, and they don’t. The people there have a certain sensitivity. We don’t honk horns, we don’t litter. But they do it right there in the open.” It wasn’t the consensus, however, that the comparison between the two countries had any validity. A contrarian view summarized the imbalance involved and the population density of Sri Lanka relative to Delhi and how that could only be a ratio. “Sri Lanka is more peaceful and clean, but it is not anything like us. Sri Lanka has 360 people per sq km. Delhi has 13,800. India has 1.4 billion people, 22+ languages, a short time span for sustainable development and real defense threats. Scales are all different. Even most Europe can be compared to T2.”

It was a nondescript day in Chennai, with traffic humming to their corporate beat, when Vanathi S got the call that would plot the new map for her life. She left behind a software developer's position at Oracle that paid her a whopping Rs 30 lakh a year, moving into a world of backpacks, treks, sunrise edits, and tales that unfolded along the way.

Currently, Vanathi is a professional travel content creator with more than 1.6 lakh followers on Instagram. One year from having quit that lucrative tech job, she says it is “the most rewarding decision."

"For over a decade, I led a double life. The week was about coding, scrums, and meeting deadlines. Week-ends were when I escaped - traveling, trekking, shooting and editing into the wee hours of the morning," she says. "I ticked all the right boxes for over a decade. I got my degree, got a good job, got married, looked after my parents, saved money, purchased land, built a house. But then, somewhere down the line, it hit me-I was living my life as I should, not as I wanted.

That hustle finally got to her. Burnout set in, affecting not only her physical wellness but her passion for climbing the corporate ladder too. “The same meetings, the same sprints, the same code—it all started to feel like a loop I couldn’t escape,” she says.

“It wasn't easy to quit, but it was something I had to do,” says Vanathi. “When I did finally do it, I felt this weird sense of relief, fear, and calm that I never thought I would experience.” It meant accepting the uncertainty of finances into his life. It also brought freedom: no longer did shoots need to be slotted between appointments or editing done until midnight after work hours were over.

"Destinations, not deadlines": That would be the epithet for her life now. Mountains, unknown nooks of India-it is here that the journey of Vanathi is documented by her with the much-needed warmth-it speaks to thousands of people reading her posts from office cubicles or congested commutes. She is practical about this decision, too. If things do not work out in the years to come, she knows she could fall back upon her tech background. “What I cannot get back is this moment—the energy, the youth, the fire in me to explore the world,” she says. Social media platforms were abuzz in approval with a deluge of posts about her courage. “Welcome to the club,” one of her followers wrote. “After quitting corporate, it’s been the best decision of my life.” It is a journey that, for Vanathi at least, is not about places but the real-time recovery of time, curiosity, and guts enough to heed the small voice that calls one onto a less-worn path.