c u on top - satyabrata dam

Don’t get me wrong, I did mean ‘trippers’ and not the other word that many of my friends may like to assume. Let’s begin with a blank statement: the Turkana trip that I undertook while in Kenya is one of the most bizarre undertakings of my entire life, and perhaps by some stretch of imagination the most bizarre of all. Now those of you who know what I factually do (actually this is a misnomer since I sincerely do nothing to justify my existence on this planet) can easily gauge the depth and boldness of this statement. Reasons were numerous but above all, triumphant over everything else was the strange and odd ensemble of people who by accident and design became my fellow voyagers. Collectively I would call them ‘Turkana Trippers’, individually I won’t name them at all. While the entire trip lasting nearly a fortnight had its own ups and downs and breath-stopping adventures and encounters galore, of which I would divulge elsewhere, I must chronicle and dedicate this article to all m...

I have always believed that what we gain after severe hardships of mind and matter, brushing death kind, etc appears that much sweeter and worthy. Sarara Camp defies that logic; even if I had been dropped by Donald Trump’s private helicopter (not that he ever would despite being such a sweet man) while nursing glass after glass of Dom Perignon, I would still be struck with the same awe and wonderment that was my state when I laid my eyes on the Sarara Camp and its hosts. That is not to say that my passage to Sarara was paved with silk. This is the story of one of the most enchanting spots in Africa I have ever visited, amply cared and catered by Piers and Hillary, who jointly along with the son Jeremy and other staff truly make it a home. So let’s begin our journey to the Oases of Peace and Harmony. After braving matatus, marauding drivers, scorching sun, bandits and blizzards of burning dust (you can read about my passage to Sarara in my earlier post titled ‘Batting with Bandits’) whe...