Now I can say there was that time in Dharamsala, when a people cut off from their country and their families marched for two hours in protest, demanding action, dreaming of home.
Dreams, demands, Dharamsala: Notes on when a place has purpose.
Tibet
Dharamsala or bust: Notes on the wonder of ‘what if?’
What if – there were those two words again, the harbingers of regret. Because as much as I love my home here in Goa, I also knew that three months from now, I didn’t want to be asking myself – what if I’d gone with them to Dharamsala?