From Delhi to Agra and the extraordinary stay in Chhattisgarh

My train to Mathura is at 2 PM, and we’ll arrive an hour late—all good. I booked a hotel on booking, but unfortunately, it’s really far from the ghats. Walking there is out of the question—what a shame. The hotel itself is fine, and there are several restaurants right across the street, which will be handy for dinner. This won’t be an exception, though—starting at 10 PM, they must wake up because I can hear them talking loudly, and music is playing along. My room faces the entrance, so it’s going to be tough. At midnight, I ask them to lower the volume, but they don’t listen. By 1 AM, I lose my temper, and this time, everything stops. Finally, I can get some sleep—until 4 AM, when they start up again for a little while before quiet returns until 6 AM. But when do they sleep? The noise never seems to bother them—it’s unbelievable, and I’m finding it harder and harder to tolerate. It makes a huge difference. The next morning, as I leave, they tell me they’ll give me another room for the following night. Oh, two nights like that wouldn’t be possible—I’m exhausted. I head out to explore the ghats and take a rickshaw, which I share with a family, to Vrindavan, a city of temples dedicated to Krishna. I visit several while wandering through the lively streets, surrounded by a crowd of devotees. By 1 PM, I’m near the Bankey Bihari Temple, but I can’t go in—it just closed. Nearby, there are restaurants, so I take the opportunity to grab my usual aloo paratha with a lassi.





The work women do here is incredibly hard, and their pay must be miserable.



I want to leave Vrindavan for Govardhan. Two young guys on a motorcycle in front of the temple approach me, and the driver offers to take me part of the way. I’m pretty skeptical, but he insists, and I eventually agree. I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Once on the bike, his friend hops on too, and suddenly I’m sandwiched between them for a multi-kilometer ride—*travel Indian-style*. We quickly drop off the friend, and I breathe easier for the rest of the trip. At an intersection, he stops—Govardhan is straight ahead, but to get to his village, he needs to turn right. We wait for the bus for a few minutes, and he flags it down so I can hop on and continue my journey. What an adventure.





the neighbor with its beautiful dome.

I leave Mathura by bus and arrive at 10:20 AM in Sikandra. The bus drops me off right in front of Akbar’s mausoleum. At the entrance, there’s a room for luggage storage, which works out great for me (10 rs), and the entry fee for the mausoleum is 300 rs. I’ve been here before, but it’s so beautiful that I couldn’t resist coming back. The first gate, made of sandstone, is stunning with its beautiful decorations, marble, and slate, topped by four minarets.





The gate opens onto a well-maintained park, with dry basins leading to the tomb. The tomb has four doors at the cardinal points. The facade walls feature marble inlays, yellow limestone, and black slate on the red sandstone structure, creating geometric and floral patterns. Inscriptions above the door, in white marble, note that the mausoleum was built between 1612 and 1614. The mausoleum aligns with the four cardinal points and sits at the center. The chhatris (domes) are made of marble.





Stepping inside the mausoleum, you’re surprised by how richly decorated the interior is—though the center of the room is currently under restoration.





The ceiling of the main dome is under restoration, with scaffolding in the middle of the room. A narrow, dark, sloping corridor leads down to the tomb (photos prohibited). The contrast between the vestibule and the burial chamber is striking. The chamber is completely simple, with no decoration or color, and very dim lighting—though the acoustics are amazing, and the guard has fun demonstrating this to visitors. The gates. Wide pathways lined with canals lead to each door of the mausoleum. Two portals are in good condition, the third is under restoration, and the last is in ruins. The three false entrance doors served as both garden pavilions and accommodations. Each had a small side door for direct access from the outside. The best-preserved and most extraordinary gate is the western one. The vaulted ceiling is incredible. The entire surface is richly decorated with painted motifs that have withstood the elements well.





The eastern gate has no paintings on the walls, which is quite curious—perhaps it never had any.



The northern gate was once the largest and most grandiose, but today it’s a ruin. This place is peaceful, and I take my time to soak it all in. View of the western gate overlooking the mausoleum.



After picking up my luggage at the exit, I take a rickshaw to continue exploring the area—I want to discover some lesser-known mausoleums.

Mariam’s tomb, located on the left side of the Agra-Mathura road, less than a kilometer from Akbar’s tomb. Mariam Zamani was a Rajput princess married to Akbar in 1562. She died in Agra in 1623, and her son Jahangir had this tomb built for her. The entry ticket is a bit pricey (250 rs). Some researchers believe this structure was originally a "pleasure palace" later converted into a tomb. Others disagree, as the Mughals didn’t repurpose existing structures for such purposes. The building isn’t very well maintained—the paintings inside have faded. It’s a shame because the structure is beautiful, and the gardens are immaculate.





We pass by Akbar’s tomb again—500 meters away is the Gurudwara Garuka Ka Taal, a beautiful building from the outside. We take a photo and move on.



Three kilometers away are the Salabat Khana tomb and the Raja Jaswant Singh Chhatri. These two tombs face each other in a garden but have different architectures. Salabat Khan’s tomb is built in red sandstone. This tomb consists of an open hall with 64 columns on a large platform, with chhatris at each corner.





The tomb of Sadiq Khan It’s an octagonal tomb that originally stood on a large platform that has since collapsed. It’s not maintained, and you can’t go inside. The coffin is outside.



Now heading to Agra and the N’Homestay—the driver doesn’t know it, the guard tries to explain, he asks for directions several times, and with patience, we finally arrive. It’s in a residential neighborhood, quiet but a bit out of the way. Small market in the area.

I’ve got a meet-up after breakfast with Mukul, the rickshaw driver who’ll be taking me around Agra all day. We start with the Jama Masjid in the old city.



and its neighborhood, which unfortunately is still asleep—shops are slowly opening at 10:30.



We head off to Ram Bagh (the garden of flower diffusion), the oldest Mughal garden in India. Here, there’s no ticket counter; we have to go into a shop where the vendor handles the administrative steps and gives me a payment receipt for entry—250 rs—plus takes a 50 rs commission. The entry ends up being pretty expensive for such a quick visit, and the price isn’t justified. It’s getting more and more complicated to visit historical sites in India as a foreign tourist with their scan-and-pay systems.





The garden consists of three descending terraces with channels where water used to flow. Fruit trees and flowers once grew here, but today there’s nothing left. Still, it’s well maintained.



A walkway overlooks the Yamuna, where laundry workers wash and dry clothes.

A little further on, Chini Ka Rauza—free entry, which is so rare. It’s the tomb of Afzal Khan, a courtier and poet whose brother was the calligrapher of the Taj Mahal. This tomb doesn’t follow the course of the Yamuna River or the layout of the gardens that once lined the river. The tomb faces Mecca.

In the past, this tomb was covered in tiled decoration, but not much of it remains today. This colorful tiled decoration is what gives the tomb its name—"Chini" means "China."

The state of the exterior hides a lovely surprise inside, which is absolutely charming with beautiful paintings. These paintings must have been restored, though there’s no proof of it.











It’s a wonderful surprise, and I’m so glad I stopped by here.



On the banks of the Yamuna, you can see an old chhatri.

thanks for these beautiful walks that bring back so many memories! thanks for the photos and the vivid, interesting story—I’m almost there! !

Welcome back to the forum—so glad to see you here again! There are classics, but also lots of new discoveries in this travel journal, just like the previous ones. Agra isn’t just about the Taj Mahal, and I didn’t run into many tourists there. Can’t say I’m complaining! 🤗😊

Hello, It’s with pleasure and interest that I board the train. Thanks

Can't wait to chat and have fun! 😄

I’m not far from the Itmad-Ud-Daulah tomb, or the Baby Taj. The entrance gate in red sandstone decorated with white marble inlays.



The same gate seen from the back.



This is the first tomb made of white marble. The exterior surface is stunning, with inlaid stone featuring geometric patterns, flowers, and carafes in exceptional detail.





The *jalis* (lattice screens) are also incredibly delicate, giving the interior a soft, filtered light. The inside of the tomb is divided into 9 chambers. In the central chamber—the largest—are the coffins of Itimad-Ud-Daulah and Asmat Begum.





The paintings are beautiful, with rich colors. The flowers painted on the inner walls are mostly red—red flowers in Persian symbolism represent suffering and death.



The decorations and designs of the interior ceilings are remarkable.



The tomb has four gates made of red sandstone with white marble inlays.



The funerary garden is meant to represent paradise. It’s square-shaped, divided into four parts by canals and walkways, with the tomb on a platform in the center. I’m taking advantage of this peaceful, quiet place to relax.

I’m wrapping up my day at Methab Bagh (the garden across from the Taj Mahal). Entry is 300 rs. The garden itself isn’t extraordinary, but you have to come here for the beautiful views of the Taj Mahal. In the evening at sunset, the light is gorgeous, and we’re all meeting up here. The Yamuna River separates the garden from the Taj Mahal.

I’m spending my last day in Dholpur, which I already know—I really like it, and tourists don’t come here. I’m taking a bus (77 rs). When I arrive, I’ll head straight to Machkund by rickshaw—it’s 5 km out in the countryside. It’s a large water reservoir surrounded by *chhatris* and red sandstone temples. I’ve been here several times and never run into any tourists. It’s beautiful and peaceful—it’s nice to spend time in places like this. (See my travel journal *Rajasthan insolite*, Nov 22)







I head back to town and get a ride to the *baori* near the market. At the entrance, men have gathered—some are playing chess, another in the corner is sifting turmeric and ginger for Ayurvedic treatments. Another man comes up to me as soon as I arrive and shows me around. I’m lucky because the door to the lower level is locked, but my guide quickly finds the person in charge who gives us the keys. This *baori* has five levels, but I only see two—the other three are underwater.



When I return, there’s more activity at the entrance—a woman is getting her shoulder massaged, a man is having a poultice applied to his ankle, another to his leg. My back’s a little sore, but I don’t try the massages. I ask my guide where the other *baori* is, and he happily takes me there. He tells me there’s another one, but it’s in bad shape. To get to this one—the Queen’s *baori*—you have to climb over the fence and walk through trash. It’s a shame it’s not maintained because it’s really beautiful—the pillars are carved.



My guide explains that the niches along the *baori* were used to place ghee lamps, so women could come fetch water in the evening.



After the visit, I wander around the market, then head back to Agra. Tomorrow, I’m going back to Agra.

At 7 AM, takeoff for Raipur in Chhattisgarh and another fabulous journey begins—but for now, I have no idea what awaits me or what I’ll discover. I arrive in Raipur at 9 AM. It’s a small airport. By the time I pick up my bag, Raja, who’s arriving from Bangalore, joins me. Driver Anil and local guide Awesh are waiting at the exit, worried they haven’t seen me come out. They welcome us with a flower garland each. We leave Raipur and head to a local festival 70 km away—no time to waste. Women and men from several villages are getting ready: costumes, makeup, jewelry, hairstyles with peacock feathers in their hair. The colors of their clothes vary depending on the village they come from.







The different tattoos all have very specific meanings: those on the arms represent mountains, on the forearms, crops, flowers, and vegetables, and on the hands, protection for life.



The men have musical instruments, and the women have hand cymbals. This festival happens once a year, set according to the moon, to thank the goddesses of crops and the monsoon.





The shamans from the surrounding villages are seated near the temple. A few drops of oil are poured into their hands, the music starts, and they quickly enter a trance. There are so many of them, and it’s quite impressive. Some shout, others jump, moving back and forth to the rhythm of the music. Men attend the ceremony, holding totems—here, mostly bamboo with flags, while others, more important ones, are covered in flowers and fabrics.





The men with their totems begin to parade, followed by the shamans, musicians, and dancers, then the crowd follows through the village. The costumed women and men dance in a circle. In front of each house, they offer their blessing and will visit every village, hoping for good yields in the next harvests. This is the first time I’ve witnessed such a festival, and it’s truly amazing.

Oops! I missed the train... but luckily, I managed to catch the flight to Raipur 😅. I'm once again amazed by the vibrant colors of the clothes👗.

Oh, we're gonna have so much fun and be really impressed by all these festivals.

We’re back in the car, and since this morning I’ve been seeing beautiful mahua trees (madhuca indica). The local alcohol is made from these flowers.



Raja spots an animist cemetery and asks Anil to stop.



Another stop near a river where women build small dams with their hands. They pass the trapped water through a net to catch any small fish or crabs.





We reach our hotel in Jagdalpur at 6:30 PM after a great day.

This morning, we head back to the countryside, and it feels so good to be far from the noise. We’re going to discover the Muria tribe and their very unique way of life in the Ghotuls. The Murias are among the oldest aboriginal peoples of India. When children reach adolescence, both boys and girls leave their family homes to live in the ghotuls, mixed dormitories where they spend the night and learn to sleep as couples with great freedom. They can change partners, and girls must avoid getting pregnant. It’s a place of awakening to adult life and sexuality, where songs, dances, poetry, and community life play a central role. The girls choose their future husbands. It’s incredible how different this is from the strict traditions of this country.

Along the way, we stop by the roadside—we’ve spotted some animist graves. The graves with figures and animals represent the importance of the person in the village.



Awesh takes us to someone’s home who shows and explains how their still works to distill mahua flowers into alcohol. You heat water, and in the center, a wooden tray is tightly tied. The flowers are placed there, and the steam distills, passing through a long pipe into a collection container, producing mahua alcohol.



the outdoor kitchen



The inner courtyards of the houses are always very clean—you can walk barefoot! They collect cow dung, mix it with water until it becomes a paste, and spread it on the ground. When it dries, it forms a crust, making the floor spotless. There’s no odor, and it also acts as a natural mosquito and insect repellent. It’s a beautiful and effective method.



we watch butter being churned

Further on, the women are sitting on the ground—some sorting rice, another grinding black lentils with a smile. It’s really interesting to witness this local life, and we’re always welcomed warmly.



The women have beautiful tattoos, though sadly, the younger generation has abandoned this practice. On their arms, you’ll see representations of flowers and vegetables; on their forearms, mountains; and on their hands, symbols of protection for life. Everything here is symbolic and graceful.





In one house, the lady of the house offers us food. She crafts small containers from sal leaves to use as plates. The sal tree is fascinating—its resin is used to make incense, the seeds and fruits are turned into oil or vegetable fat, the wood for frameworks, the leaves for containers, and the branches as fodder for livestock. Nothing goes to waste.







The men are distinguished with their headgear and jewelry.

The village chief comes to fetch us and takes us a little away from the houses—this spot serves as the village square. We wait for the musicians and dancers who come to perform for us. The villagers take advantage of the moment and settle in the shade of the trees.



The men arrive on stilts and give us a few demonstrations. The clothing and jewelry are always very beautiful. Here, some men wear bovine horns and peacock feathers. The women have lovely outfits and beautiful jewelry that weighs around their necks.







The men also have very colorful outfits.





We head back on the road. Raja remembers a place where he’d passed before and discovered ancient rituals in the jungle. We take a path that leads deep into the jungle and find them again. It’s very moving to arrive at this well-protected spot and come across these old tombs. The site is well-maintained and quite extensive, with a temple and tombs scattered throughout the nature.

New day—this morning we’re visiting Jagdalpur in Bastar, a region of Chhattisgarh. Chhattisgarh is home to 30% of India’s tribal population, and in Jagdalpur, that figure rises to 70%.

Raja’s nephew, Pravin, who isn’t familiar with this area, is joining us. While we wait for him, Raja knows the manager of a more luxurious hotel than the one we’re staying at, so we pay him a visit. The garden is stunning, filled with beautiful fruit trees in bloom. Lychee

Jackfruit and its fruits.



Mango tree and its fruits, which will ripen in June.



It’s lovely, but it’s not in my budget. Once Pravin arrives, we head to a big festival with the Muria tribe. Along the way, we visit a beautiful sanctuary with a megalithic menhir and animal statues. It’s always moving to be in places like this.





Awesh’s wife has prepared aloo parathas, and we have a picnic in the shade near the temple where the festival is taking place. Inside the temple, there’s a megalithic menhir, and above its spot, the ceiling is open to allow earth-sky energy to flow.



Goat sacrifices take place here before the ceremony. Inside the temple, the musical instruments are ready, and the musicians are settling in.



The shamans sitting in the middle of the room quickly enter a trance. It’s quite surprising. Men stand beside them, dressing them in feminine attire—jewelry and flower crowns. They’ll be venerated as female deities by the community.

The men and the dancers arrived, along with the men carrying the laths (totems with flags), and the procession begins through the village.



At each house, there’s a stop. The women wait for the goddesses with pitchers of water and flowers to bless the procession and the shamans, who offer them a few grains of rice as a good luck charm.







The men carrying the totems—two in front and two behind—some of whom are in a trance, will also receive the blessing from the village women.



The shamans are blessed as well.



Residents from surrounding villages come to attend this annual festival.





We head to the market, which is very large today for the festival. The date is set at the last minute and spreads quickly from village to village.



My new acquaintances—it’s safe to say I’m quickly noticed here.



Thanks to Awesh for finding this festival through his contacts—it’s exceptional to be able to participate. I realize how lucky I am to experience such unforgettable and extraordinary moments. Awesh calls me "lucky mam" ;) Farmers and traders come here, hoping that with the blessing, they’ll have good crops and successful business all year. The shamans are revered; men and women kneel, kiss their feet, and offer them flowers or a bill in exchange for a few grains of rice. At the end of the festival, singles arrive and spend the night here, hoping to meet their soulmate. When it comes to marriage, it’s the man who brings the dowry and moves in with his wife’s family. Back at the Ham Residency hotel in Jagdalpur. It’s new, and the price is very reasonable: 1700 Rs including breakfast.

We start the day at the ethnic museum. Akesh explains all the customs really well. The traditional houses are outside. This museum reminds me of the one in Bhopal, but in miniature.



We drive through the countryside. Cashew trees grow around here, but it’s not the season.



We stop in a village that we explore on foot. A fisherman is repairing his net.



the houses are well-maintained.



We enter a courtyard where women are busy removing lice from one of their heads.





while the meal cooks



this village is very clean.





further on, a sanctuary with animals made of terracotta.

We’re having a picnic in the shade when a truck loaded with women in the back pulls up. Awesh stops them, chats, and tells us they’re heading to another village where a young man has eloped with his girlfriend—she went willingly. The girl’s mother is coming to demand a dowry from the boy’s family. She’s asking for 10,000 rs, plus chickens and vegetables.



We follow them to the boy’s house. All the women from the village are there, and the mood is festive. They’re making leaf bowls from sal leaves to feed all the visitors. Several trucks made the trip.





The wedding date is about to be decided. We get to know the future bride and groom. The kids are gorgeous.



While chatting, Awesh learns there’s a festival in a village near the Odisha border. We head there—it’s pretty great to have a car. The market is bustling, and we hang out for a while. You can find tools there,



the ice cream vendor rides around on his motorcycle,



and the barber sets up shop in the open air.



Women are selling mahua flowers to make alcohol.





The food stalls are a big deal.

we buy small wicker baskets



here we find dokhras and we buy a few of them



we spend some time at the festival



On the way back, the road is long. We pass through Jagdalpur again and drive another 40 minutes to reach the countryside, staying at a guesthouse run by Shakeel Rizvi, who is also a guide. We’re in the middle of roosters and hens, right in the heart of the countryside.

What a magnificent travel journal, Marie-Jo! You’ve immersed us in a world I’ll never get to experience myself. A huge thank you! ❤️ :)

Oh yes, Michel, I had an exceptional stay. Every day brought new surprises, and you’ll see what’s next. I’ll try to get to the end, but I don’t have much time left—I leave Thursday morning. This country is truly unique. So many emotions!☺️😢😊

Anyway, we’re the champions of France in the Six Nations tournament!🏆🇫🇷🇫🇷🥁

Chhattisgarh has always intrigued me. You’re revealing its well-kept secrets, far off the usual tourist trails—not too far (relatively speaking in India) from neighboring Odisha, of which we’ve only explored a (small) part. It’s a refreshing change from the usual Kerala, Tamil Nadu, and Rajasthan. And even in the latter, you take us to some truly unique spots.

If I’m not mistaken, I think you travel solo. But when you use the first-person plural, I assume you’re referring to your Indian friends who join you.

But enough chit-chat—I’ll let you continue your story before your next trip... to another Indian destination, I imagine! 😉

"If I'm not mistaken, I think I know you're traveling solo. But when you use the first-person plural, I assume you're talking about your Indian friends who are accompanying you." So yes, I'm traveling solo except here in Chhattisgarh where I left with my friend Raja, who's a guide and knows this destination well. He works with local guides who have lots of contacts—it's essential here since festivals are decided at the last minute. They spoiled me with one surprise after another every day. I never could've done this trip alone. Otherwise, yes, I'm heading off solo again to other Indian regions: Assam, Nagaland, and Meghalaya. I'm going to attend festivals that take place every year in April, which explains my late departure.

Have a great day and enjoy yourself! I lived a waking dream.🤗🥰

Assam, Nagaland and Meghalaya

These are more Indian states that intrigue me too, except for Assam, which we know, but the latter is easier to travel through. I dream of the Himalayan borders of Arunachal Pradesh. Maybe in my next life... 😉 Have a great day and good luck with what’s next! 🙂

" I dream of the remote Himalayan reaches of Arunachal Pradesh. Maybe in my next life... 😉"

We’ll meet there someday!!!! 😄 😎

Today we’re heading to Tirathgarh. We’re making lots of stops along the way. We visit a school. The kids aren’t there—what a shame.



On the road, we pass a house where quite a few women are sitting in a corner, and at the entrance, many shopping bags are lined up on the ground. That’s worth a stop. It’s a state-run house where the most needy come to buy certain staples (oil, chickpeas, flour, rice…) at low cost. They have a notebook where the person’s name and the number of family members are recorded, which determines the quantity of goods to be distributed. A page is stamped when they come, and they’re restocked once a month.



We arrive at the Chingitarai market—trucks haven’t finished unloading yet.



The women don’t traditionally wear saris; not all of them wear a top, and some leave their chests exposed, as seen in certain tribes in Odisha.







We get back in the car for the Tirathgarh waterfalls. We stop at an animist temple in the forest—the sacred area is quite large and fenced off, and the temple looks like a house.



We cross a market to reach the waterfalls, where we’ll take a short boat ride. On the way down the steps to the dock, we pass by a temple.



The waterfalls aren’t very impressive this season.

This morning, we set off on foot from the guesthouse for a walk. We follow a path through the forest that leads us to a river. Women are fishing there, with water practically up to their knees. Some are pulling up roots that grow in the water to cook them.



Others are fishing too—they dig their hands into the earth and pull out a kind of large black larva that they’ll eat and probably sell at the market. It doesn’t look appetizing, to say the least.





Others are doing laundry.



Since we’ve been here, I’ve noticed a beautiful tree—yes, another one. The *Butea monosperma*, very interesting. It has red flowers used to make natural pigments for painting houses or dyeing saris. The roots produce a yellow pigment, and the flowers a red one. It’s also a lac tree and is sacred to Hindus.



In the forest, we find a sanctuary with many terracotta figures, guarded at the entrance by two panthers.





This forest is so beautiful with all these trees—it’s a real treat.



In the afternoon, we stop at a market. Women are selling mahua alcohol and waiting for customers.



I’ll say it again—the landscapes here are stunning. I love this place.

Then we pass through a village where someone repaints tribal murals on house walls every year.





We arrive at another market where cockfights take place. It’s really lively. They attach a blade above the rooster’s leg, and it can enter the arena.



Two roosters face off, and the winner is the one who injures its opponent the fastest. Spectators bet on their favorite. It’s over very quickly.



After the fight, the injured roosters go to "the surgeon," who stitches them up.



Back to the guesthouse.

Hi Marie Jo, Thanks for this beautiful story from one of the many parts of India I don’t know and will probably never get to visit. Sniff...

Hi Anne, If you're traveling from Kétala to Karnataka, you can head to Chhattisgarh. To visit all these villages, you’ll need a car and driver, plus a local guide—that makes the trip super comfortable. It’s a really beautiful region, and all the festivals are unimaginable and surprising. I had a blast! It’s nothing like the usual tours, but unfortunately, I don’t think many people are interested. I won’t have time to finish it. See you soon

Car + driver + guide might make the trip comfortable... but it’s also really expensive, at least too expensive for us, unfortunately... But enjoy your upcoming trip to Nagaland...

"Car + driver + guide might make the trip comfortable... but it also makes it really expensive—way too pricey for us, unfortunately." It’s true you’ve got to plan your budget and save up before heading there.

Unfortunately, saving money isn’t an option right now after the floods we had in Brittany! I think this winter it’ll be Kerala/Karnataka for me... But I’m really enjoying the regions you’re visiting through your travel journals! Thanks, Mariejo.

Anne

"Unfortunately, this isn't the time to save money with the floods we've had in Brittany!" You’ve been really affected by these floods—it’s catastrophic wherever they hit. Kerala and Karnataka are great too; your travel journal makes me want to go, but as long as I’m still in shape, I’ll try to travel a bit more... though like everyone, I feel the years flying by, so it’ll be soon! 🙂

We're leaving the guesthouse. On the way, we stop at an artisanal brickworks. The bricks are drying in the sun, waiting to go into the kiln.

Further on, a man is picking mahua flowers that will be distilled.

Later, the fruit will be harvested and turned into cosmetic products. We stop in a village we walk through on foot. We see local life there. The women are doing laundry.



And we arrive at a temple with many terracotta animals that you must absolutely not touch. It’s always impressive and fascinating to see these temples—it’s so different from our culture. They’re also very curious in Tamil Nadu, particularly in the Chettinad region.



The women, with pots on their heads, return from fetching water with the same graceful ease despite the weight. What poise—I’d never be able to do the same.



We arrive at another colorful market, where women are selling mahua, a seasonal product.



The pastry section is, as always, well-stocked, but we’re just passing through—this time, the foodies in the group resist temptation.



Then we join the preparations for the festival. The chairs are beautifully decorated, and the stakes are huge. How can anyone sit on them for a long time? They must have some memories for days afterward.



The dancers are getting ready, putting on makeup, and the jewelry and costumes are all laid out—nothing is overlooked.



Impressive mustaches



We won’t stay for the festival—the road back to Jagdalpur is long.

Hello,

I think winter will now be Kerala/Karnataka...

You're absolutely right to take advantage of it now. Tempus fugit...

We're heading to a new annual festival, different from the previous ones. On the way, we stop by the roadside where Raja spotted colorful, painted tombs. The life of the deceased is depicted here. You can see drawings of animals, dancers, and musicians like in the festivals, as well as family life at home.



We arrive at the festival early enough to witness the preparations. Here, the totems are different from previous festivals. They're decorated with peacock feathers and little bells.



The men are shirtless and wear a longhi (a cotton cloth that goes from the waist to the knee, commonly worn in southern India).

The totems are lined up side by side for the blessing. A shaman places a few grains of rice at the foot of each totem, followed by the sacrifice of chickens, where another person deposits a few drops of blood. A little off to the side, the musicians' drums are gathered, and a shaman comes to perform the blessing with more chicken sacrifices. A drop of blood is placed on each drum. I mostly filmed at these festivals, but I don’t know how to post videos here, so you’ll only get photos, which I have to limit.



Once the blessings are done, the musicians and dancers start moving, followed by the shamans carrying the totems. They circle the square, and many of us are there to witness the event.





The women dance accompanied by the musicians.



And the shamans carrying the totems run around the square, while the spectators stay back to avoid the crowd.



It’s quite spectacular to witness these very unique events. Before leaving, we take a stroll through the market. For the occasion, evening wear is out in full force.

The women wear the typical tribal jewelry.



These colorful bracelets are too tempting—stopping for a purchase is a must.

Today we're heading to Chitrakoot Falls. Along the way, we're making lots of stops. I'm still amazed by the loads women carry on their heads.



The landscapes are stunning—this region is truly disorienting, bewildering, full of mystery. I love it, and every day Awesh shows me more of local life. I'm really "lucky," as he likes to tease me all the time.



Awesh takes us to another cemetery in the forest. The tombs here are also painted, featuring family homes, animals, and dancers. The date of death is mentioned, and some have sculptures of figures.



You can also see totems here.

Every day, we enjoy great moments in these colorful markets with such a fun atmosphere.



The tattoos are always beautiful, but sadly, young women have abandoned this tradition, which risks disappearing over time.





The landscapes deserve a photo stop—this place is really beautiful. The vehicles are packed.



Awesh takes us to a family he knows and ordered lunch for us. When we arrive, the women are cooking. They’ve prepared sals leaves to use as containers and place them in the embers. The chicken inside will cook gently.



On the menu: rice, dhal, and chicken—everything is delicious.

We spend the afternoon at Chitrakoot Falls and take a boat ride to get closer to the waterfalls—the spray lightly showers us.

Today we visited an artisan village where they make the famous Dhokra items we still haven’t seen in the markets. Tribal Dhokra art is truly unique. It’s based on the ancient lost-wax technique, used for casting metal alloys like brass and bronze. The artisans here use traditional tools and handcrafted methods to create Dhokra pieces. The sculptures often depict animals, tribal deities, Hindu gods and goddesses, and abstract patterns. Dhokra art has existed for over 4,000 years. The technique used for making brass statues is still the lost-wax method. Every step of the process is done by hand with basic tools. It takes great skill and dexterity to achieve. The work is done as a family outdoors—some handle the clay, others the modeling, wax work, or firing.

In the past, they produced utilitarian objects like kitchen utensils, coat racks, and candle holders. Today, Dhokra art is increasingly recognized for its artistic value, and they now create more animal statues, deities, and scenes of daily life, like women carrying jars on their heads. It’s fascinating to watch them work.



We continued our morning at a new market where cockfights take place. The women are always present with their jars of mahua.



The weekly market lets women gather and spend the day chatting. They come with their children.



Many women wear a headscarf, and their outfits are always very colorful.







You can also find Dhokra items and traditional clothing at this market.





We returned early since we’re invited to dinner at Awesh’s place. His wife is making us chicken biryani with dal. We’re going to buy some fruit and sweets for their kids at the market near the hotel.

Really interesting trip... It's true that you're lucky!

I’ve dreamed about it for a long time after returning.

A little explanation before continuing. I’d like to recount the day before my departure.

During a festival, the shamans would sit on a chair with nails—here’s what it means. The chair with nails and the swing belong to the local goddesses to display their power most of the time. Here, at the festival, the shaman enters a trance, dressed in clothes representing the goddess. He becomes powerful and can sit on this chair to represent her and bless the people.



https://Lepetitjournal.com Escape into Chhattisgarh State among the Adivasis (Indigenous people of India) A very interesting read.

We continue our adventure, and Raja wants to show me an animist temple with terracotta animals.



The horses are well represented too.



One of them is quite special.



With its wings. That was the surprise Raja wanted to share with me—thank you to him for all these discoveries. After returning, I dreamed about this fabulous trip for a long time, and today, by publishing it here, I realize just how lucky I was with all these visits.

We take a break in a village where there’s some activity at the temple. The women are preparing the first ceremony for a wedding. In their baskets, they have rice, turmeric, oil, incense, and they’re building a sort of "altar" for the ceremony with turmeric mixed with water and clay. They spread this paste around a sacred tree—often basil—and bless it with rice and incense.



We’re not the only curious ones, and these little kids are adorable.



The women leave the temple in a single file, water jugs balanced on their heads, and walk all the way to the home of one of the future spouses’ families.





We follow them, but along the way, we pass a house with a lot of activity. Awesh goes inside and signals for us to join him. Here too, a wedding is being prepared, and we’re about to witness the second phase before the ceremony. It’s amazing—I’m really feeling "lucky"!

I’m welcomed by this little group—they’re so cute!







The women are preparing the pitcher ceremony. They cover the pitcher with a clay-turmeric paste and plant rice grains all around it.



They carefully place the rice around the pitcher.



We get back in the car and head to another village to witness another pre-wedding ritual: the blessing of the couple before the big ceremony. I can honestly say I’m so lucky to experience these incredible moments—it’s truly amazing. When we arrive, the pitchers are stacked against the sacred tree. The base around the tree has been redone with the clay-turmeric mixture.



We’re invited inside the house. The groom-to-be is sitting on the floor with his mother behind him. He’s wearing a headpiece that covers his face, and his mother drapes the end of her sari over his head. His feet rest on a bamboo stand, and on the floor are a jar of holy water, incense, rice, and a ghee lamp. He holds a small flag in his hands.



The blessing begins with the priest, then a woman wets her hands in the pitcher, touches the groom’s feet, knees, shoulders, head, and chin, and repeats the process while adding a bit of turmeric paste. The ritual continues until the groom-to-be is covered from head to toe in the paste. It’s great for the skin ;)



Once he’s thoroughly coated, he goes to sit outside at the foot of the sacred tree, and the women pour the pitchers of water over him from head to toe to purify him.



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The same process is carried out for the future bride.





A woman carries her on her back at the level of the second sacred wood. The turmeric application takes place outside, and the women have fun putting turmeric on each other’s faces—we won’t escape it either. It’s very friendly. The bride will also be thoroughly washed.





Once clean, she’s brought back inside the house and carried in a wicker basket by the women.



After this step, they repeat the process with the bride and groom, one behind the other—they’ll be nice and clean for the wedding ceremony. Turmeric is great for the skin, so why not? 😉 The women apply it to each other, and we won’t escape it either.



The ceremonies take place with music.



We won’t be staying for the rest of the ceremony, but as we leave, the groom’s mother comes to thank us for our presence and gives each of us a gift—a scarf for the men and a sari for me. Incredible! We don’t know them, we just showed up at their place, and we leave with a present. We have to go to a festival where the horse is venerated. We’re early, and we can’t wait. They still agree to show us the horse, adorned with all its decorations—flowers, fabrics—for the ceremony.



While waiting for the horse to come out, I take some photos with the men.

Women are never far away here. They have different hairstyles, always with jewelry and tattoos, and the way they wear their saris is also unique.





And here’s the decorated horse, revered like a god, to whom offerings are made.





We hit the road again—it’ll be a long drive to Raipur. We drop Awesh off at a bus stop since he’s heading back to Jagdalpur. The end of the trip is near.

Unfortunately, I don’t think many people are interested in this

Well, *I’m* really interested! I’d already spotted this region—it’s totally unique—and actually mentioned it to Rajat when we traveled with him. Adding Uttar Pradesh was a great idea; it balances the trip by bringing in a "monuments" side.

Anyway, just a few more photos before you head off to explore other lands—I wouldn’t mind 🙂 Or you can pick it up again when you get back 😉

Thanks again, and congrats on your travel journal