'Lohandi to Ladakh' book released
BHUBANESWAR: 'Lohandi to Ladakh', a travelogue by author Om Prakash Singh, was released at an event organised by publisher Ketaki Books here on Monday.
While Singh spoke about stories of Lohandi to Ladakh, offering glimpses into moments of solitude, adventure, and introspection that shaped the narrative, the event also featured address by PCCF & HoFF Suresh Pant, who spoke on travel and forest preservation.
Retired IFS Debidutta Biswal, PCCF (KL) Uma Nanduri and PCCF (WL) Prem Kumar Jha reflected on the synergy between conservation, literature and travel.
'I am overwhelmed by the incredible support. I hope this book inspires others to find adventure and beauty, near or far,' Singh said.
An interactive session with the author allowed readers to explore the creative process and personal motivations behind the book.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Hindu
20 hours ago
- The Hindu
All or nothing: The Asian Championships through the eyes of Tejaswin Shankar
I landed in South Korea two days before the decathlon. It was my first time this far east — the farthest I'd ever been from home — and I could feel a quiet sense of anticipation building up inside me. My body felt good, my mind was calm, and for once, there were no lingering injuries like the one I carried into the Nationals. Spirits were high. We were staying in a beautiful facility. And the best part? Everyone had their own room. For someone like me — who tends to travel with half a sporting goods store — this was a blessing. Ten spikes, a javelin, discus, tape, massage balls, recovery tools… you name it, I had it. My room was an organised mess, but it was my own little corner of controlled chaos. Just how I like it. The Indian team was a fresh mix of new energy. I had trained with some of them at the pre-Asians camp in Thiruvananthapuram about three weeks earlier, but this group felt different. Passionate, intense, expressive — this new generation of Indian athletes is something else. They're there to win, and they wear their hearts on their sleeves. But they also know how to have fun, how to laugh, and how to lift each other up. There was an energy about them that made me proud to be part of this transition. Since my competition started on the 27th of May, I did my pre-meet shake-out on the 26th. I felt springy, sharp, and ready. I caught up with a few friends from other countries — the usual pre-meet chats about training, competitions, and how the season's been going. One of my favourite things about international meets is the sense of belonging. This is our tribe. We may be from different places, but we speak the same language — the language of the sport, of pushing limits, of purpose. A lot has changed since my first senior international in 2015. Back then, physios and doctors were few and far between. Now, our support staff is a core part of the Indian team experience. The physios, coaches, and doctors work relentlessly behind the scenes. And even the coaches, who once primarily raised their voices to correct us, now offer calm encouragement and insight. The culture has matured. There's a shared goal now — to win medals, yes, but also to support each other as professionals. It felt fresh and meaningful. Sharing stories: 'I always make it a point to speak to as many people as I can in the warm-up area — not because I'm overly social, but because I'm curious. I like to know what people are up to, and honestly, I enjoy a little masala' | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement I always make it a point to speak to as many people as I can in the warm-up area — not because I'm overly social, but because I'm curious. I like to know what people are up to, and honestly, I enjoy a little masala. It helps me feel grounded and human before the chaos of competition. That day, I bumped into the distance crew — Gulveer (Singh) and his gang — mellow as ever, quietly doing their thing in endless loops. Then, in stark contrast, were the 4x100m boys: loud, wild, full of energy. In a surprising twist, the usually boisterous throwers like Yashveer (Singh), Samardeep (Singh Gill), and Sachin (Yadav) were unusually quiet, focused on their work. And then there's my personal favourite duo: Pooja and Abhinaya (Rajarajan) — the firebrand next-gen of Indian athletics. Bubbly, expressive, full of energy, and always chatting. Their energy is contagious. After a good warm-up, some laughs, and a lot of banter, I reminded myself: 'You still have to compete tomorrow.' So, I made my way back to the hotel, full of warmth from the team but ready to crawl into my cocoon. My small core team had arrived by then — Wayne (S&C), Siddhi (wife), Avantika (sister), and Devesh (friend). We had a quick team meeting that night to go over logistics. Wayne handled my supplements and recovery protocols, Devesh was in charge of food and logistics for the day, Siddhi and Avantika were responsible for shoe changes, videography, and coaching cues during events. Everyone had a role, and they played it perfectly. That night was all about quiet preparation. Laying out the shoes, recovery tools, clothes, equipment, and food for the day. I had already done a venue recce the morning before, so I knew exactly where everything was. After dinner, I said my good-nights and turned off the lights by 9 pm. I had to be up at 5 am the next day — the decathlon was waiting. I went to bed, ready to compete, mind buzzing with the possibilities the next day might hold. I woke up, I felt fresh and energetic. But just as I was about to get out of bed, I glanced at the clock. 12 a.m. What? Only three hours of sleep. I thought the whole night had passed. From that point on, I was wide awake — not with panic, but with relentless thought. Nothing I did could lull me back to sleep. Just thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts. This wasn't new; it's happened to me before, especially before big meets. So, I didn't panic. But I needed to sleep — and that was the one thing I couldn't force. Twisting and turning, counting imaginary sheep and permutations, I mentally simulated the decathlon a hundred different ways. If I do this in long jump, then that will happen in 400m… if I nail high jump, I can afford this in javelin... It just wouldn't stop. Finally, somewhere around 4:30, I dozed off — only for my alarm to go off at 5. Showtime. Behind the scenes: From Tejaswin's core team, S&C trainer Wayne handles his supplements and recovery protocols, while his wife Siddhi and sister Avantika are responsible for shoe changes, videography, and coaching cues during events. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement ************************************************ DAY 1 I had to be up — give my body at least four hours to wake up before the 9 am start. I did my morning routine, grabbed the bag I had packed the night before, picked up six 1-litre bottles of water, and headed down for breakfast. Forced down a meal at 6 am., chased it with a few cups of coffee to kick-start this diesel engine I had become, and reached the track by 7:15. Decathlon warm-ups are different. I prefer to do one long, comprehensive warm-up at the start of the day to save energy between events. That way, all I need before each event is a short activation — and I'm good to go. The sun was already glaring — way too bright for that time. The birds were chirping. The athletes were buzzing around the warm-up track. And then: 'First call for men's decathlon 100m.' Nerves? Under control. Body? Felt fast, sharp. But something was off. I wasn't excited. This moment — nine months of preparation, sacrifice, blood and sweat — and I would rather be in bed? That was odd. But there is no time for introspection. Time to execute. We lined up in the call room. Usually, I'm buzzing before the 100m. It sets the tone for the two days. A fast, snappy start tells me I'm ready. The gun went off — I felt a slightly sluggish start, but powered through the drive phase, hit top-end speed. Usually by this time, guys are pulling up on me. But not today. I was ahead of everyone except him — Yuma from Japan, reigning Asian champ, and one of the few Asians to have ever crossed 8000 points. I crossed the line right behind him, glanced at the clock, expecting at least a 10.9. 11.2. What??? I was stunned. I'd run faster with a groin injury four weeks ago. And now, at 100%, this? But decathlon teaches you one thing — analyse later. For now, stay composed. You have to separate yourself from your emotions between events. That's what makes a decathlete. Before I could even blink, we were at long jump — switched spikes, warmed up. Three jumps. You must register a mark. First jump — 7.28m. A solid start, but Siddhi told me I was a shoe-length behind the board. I had more in the tank. Second jump — 7.29m. Third jump — also close. But not the 7.40m I had trained for. Not even close to the 7.37m I jumped while injured. Tejaswin greets Yuma on the field. | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement Something wasn't clicking. Panic started creeping in. My strongest events were slipping. And it's not like I could make it up later — discus, vault... there's a ceiling to how much I can claw back there. Shot put was next. I was spiralling. Legs jittery, hands shaky, mind in chaos. My competitors were all over 13m. My first two throws? 12.80, 12.81. One throw left. The pressure was enormous. Another bad event and I'm out of medal contention. See, I'm not a balanced decathlete. My strength is Day 1. That's where I build my lead. Day 2? It's more about damage control. If I don't build that cushion on Day 1, I'm toast. So, I stood in the circle. One last throw. I took a breath. This is it. Either I crumble, or I fight. Glide. Explode. GRUNT. 13.79m. A new PB. I was back! Next was high jump — but I had two hours to reset. I dug around, trying to understand what was going wrong. Came across something called 'pre-start fever' — a psychological condition due to stress and nerves that mimics fatigue. Pair that with my three hours of sleep. Probably explains it. Wayne and I made a plan. Lunch. Contrast shower — 30 seconds hot, 30 seconds ice, repeat 4–5 times. Caffeine. Nap. Wake up. High jump warm-up. It worked. I crashed for 45 minutes. Best thing that happened that day. I woke up fresh, sharp. The PB in shot put had lit a fire. I felt like myself again. High jump is my bread and butter. It's where I must gain ground. If I miss here, I'm a sitting duck on Day 2. I opened at 2.01m — after most had bowed out. Cleared it easily. Then 2.04, 2.07, 2.10, 2.13, 2.16, 2.19 — all first attempts. At one point, I saw Gulveer start the 10K. Between jumps, I clapped and cheered. It helped distract my mind — my little mental trick. But… okay, this may sound un-athlete-like: the 10K got annoying. The track was swarming with skinny distance runners. Every jump, I had to look left and right, make sure no one was running through. Still, 2.19m was a season best. I went for 2.22m — just missed it. As I took my last attempt, Gulveer crossed the finish. I was thrilled for him — but secretly wished the race had been scheduled differently. That 2.22m was within reach. (Sorry, Gulveer. I made up for it later by screaming my lungs out for the 5K.) Last event of Day 1: the dreaded 400m. One lap of pain. I remembered legendary coach Clive Hart's 4 Ps of the 400m — Push for the first 100, Pace the next 100, Position yourself the next 100, Pray the last 100. I nailed the first three… but forgot to pray. That last 100m hit like a truck. 50.10. Not a bad score at the end of Day 1. But the real test? Morning of Day 2. When you have to hurdle over hip-height barriers that suddenly feel like Mt. Everest. So post-400m: recovery mode. Massage, ice bath, food, compression gear, activation. In bed early. Slept like a rock. ************************************************ DAY 2 I woke up feeling much better. Body ached like I got hit by a bus — which is completely normal. If you can crawl out of bed, you're good to go. Breakfast. Bags packed. Time to go again. Charging ahead: Tejaswin (second from right) started Day 2 with a near-perfect hurdles race. | Photo Credit: Asian Athletics Hurdles were up first. The most unforgiving event when you're tired. I needed a solid race to create a cushion before vault. I was dialled in. But warm-ups dragged. Heat 1 was delayed. Then I saw a crowd, medical personnel, stretchers. Heard whispers. Yuma had fallen. The reigning champ. who was second in the standings — breathing down my neck. For a second, I thought I had gold locked. But I knew better. Without Yuma, silver was a realistic goal. If everything went right, maybe even gold. As I was getting ready for my race, I saw him come out, neck-brace on. Concussed. Walking out, ready to run hurdles. I couldn't believe it. This event is hard with full senses. He was about to do it while concussed. I put the focus back on me. Ran a near-perfect race — 14.58 — and extended my lead. Yuma? 14.53. Next up was discus. Now this one — this one always gets to me. My relationship with the discus is like that of two old friends who respect each other but rarely get along. I've worked on it, I've refined my technique, I've visualised it a hundred times — but still, every time I step into that ring, I'm not quite sure which version of me is going to show up. I wasn't expecting miracles. I just needed to hold my ground. My warm-up throws were decent — not amazing, but enough to give me hope. My first attempt went out to 36. Second attempt — a bit more aggressive — landed around 37. I knew it was safe, not a PR, but enough. Enough to move on. Then came pole vault — the monster in my story. The event I had dreaded the most. I had been training, working on my run-up, on getting more consistent, but let's face it — it's still a relatively weak event for me. Especially when you're trying to survive among men who are clearing 4.70–4.90m on autopilot. I opened low at 3.80m and cleared it easily. That gave me a little boost. Then 3.90m — again, clean. I tried 4.00m to see if I could sneak in a little buffer but missed all three. Still, I was still very much in contention. The medal equation was now real. At this point, it wasn't just about competing. It was about surviving with enough juice left for javelin and the 1500m. Now going into javelin, we had five guys fighting for three medals, and I was sitting in third. Still, I believed I could win gold. I was feeling great — javelin had been coming along well in training, and I knew I had one of the strongest 1500m races in the field. Remember how shot put went? Two bad throws and then one big heave that changed everything? Javelin was the exact opposite. My first throw — as soon as it left my arm — I knew it was a personal best. It landed cleanly around 56 or 57 meters. I pumped my fist… but the joy was short-lived. I had barely — just barely — stepped over the foul line. It wouldn't count. Now I had two throws left, and my best throw wasn't measured. In the zone: Tejaswin in action during the javelin throw event of the decathlon. | Photo Credit: Asian Athletics The second throw was more conservative, more controlled — it only went 50 meters. And suddenly, I wasn't just thinking about gold slipping away. I was staring at the possibility of finishing outside the medals altogether. The other guys chasing the podium had strong throws lined up. My third and final throw: 51 meters. Not enough. It would all come down to the 1500m. By the time a decathlete reaches the final event, you're running on fumes. Forty-eight hours of emotional highs and lows, two sleepless nights, your body wrecked. At that point, it's not about fitness — it's about grit. It's about willpower.\ We were all in the combined events area waiting for the 1500m, and the mood was tense. Everyone was quiet, in their heads, calculating the permutations — times, medals, margins. Bags were packed. Nothing more to do but run. And then, the skies opened. A torrential downpour — not a drizzle, not a shower, but a full-on tropical storm. It was so bad the organisers stopped the women's 10,000m race mid-run. I've never seen that in my life — not even in a school meet. It felt surreal. Luckily, the rain let up just in time for our start. No delay. We were ready to be done. With Yuma having pulled out earlier due to injury, four of us remained in medal contention: India, China, Taiwan, and Japan. The equation was clear. For India to medal, I just had to finish ahead of Taiwan and Japan. For India to win gold, I had to beat the Chinese athlete by 10 seconds. It was an easy decision: all or nothing. I already had a medal from the last edition. This time, only gold would be enough to cap off the Asian Championships the way I had dreamed. Before the race, I made a point to thank every decathlete. Once this race ended, we would all go our separate ways — but until then, we were brothers. Win or lose, we had fought together. And I was grateful. The race began. I surged to the front right from the gun. I was going for it. My legs started dying around the 1km mark, but my spirit was soaring. I was running for something bigger than points — for the effort, for the journey, for the people who had carried me here. In the last event of the decathlon, the 1500m, Tejaswin clocked 4:37, missing the overall gold by 3 seconds. | Photo Credit: Asian Athletics I crossed the line in 4:37 and turned around, eyes locked on the track. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… 6… 7 seconds. The Chinese athlete crossed. I needed 10. I had missed gold by 3 seconds — just 16 points. But in that moment, that wasn't what I thought about first. My instinct was to embrace every single athlete at the finish line. They were all winners — not winners of medals, but conquerors of their own fear, doubts, and inner demons that haunted us across these two days. My silver was confirmed. After the usual photos with the national flag, a few minutes with my support team, the Indian coaches, and the athletes who cheered me on, I returned to the resting area. As I sat down, processing it all, my thoughts drifted to Yuma — lying quietly in a corner with his team doctors. He wasn't in pain from injury — it was the heartbreak. A gold medal that should've been his, taken not by a competitor, but by fate. I realised then: my medal wasn't complete without acknowledging his impact. I wrote him a letter — not just for him, but for myself. To thank him. For pushing me. For being the standard. For reminding me that real heroes don't wear capes. They fight. And whether they win or lose, they leave it all on the field. ************************************************ DAY 3 ' Avinash Sable cruise to a dominant gold in the steeplechase — so smooth, so in control.' | Photo Credit: Asian Athletics My competition was over. The emotions had settled, the celebrations were done, and my body was in a million pieces — but my soul was content. Yet the Asian Championships were far from finished. For TJ the athlete, yes — but not for TJ the lifelong track and field lover. I took the next morning off to rest, but by the evening, I was back at the stadium. Watching. Cheering. Supporting. Living the sport in its purest form. ************************************************ DAY 4 The very next day, the men's high jump final was scheduled. India's brightest hope, Sarvesh, was competing, and I was there, loud and proud in support. But equally important was witnessing Sanghyeok Woo perform in front of his home crowd in Korea. What a show he put on — every jump felt like a celebration of sport. Later that evening, I watched Avinash Sable cruise to a dominant gold in the steeplechase — so smooth, so in control. And then came Jyothi Yarraji's incredible gold in the hurdles. Her surge between hurdles 7 to 10 was a masterclass in both technique and tenacity. She didn't just win — she snatched it. There were many unforgettable moments, but two stand out. One was the night of the women's high jump final. That morning, I got a message from Pooja — 'You better be at the stadium tonight.' I even got a call from her coach, Balwan Singh reminding me. Pooja, to me, is the next big thing in Indian athletics. She's fearless. As she moved through her warm-up, I noticed something different. Gone was the pronounced hop in the middle of her approach. Instead, she was attacking the curve with a speed and rhythm I hadn't seen before. I walked up to her and said, 'The only thing that can come between you and a medal is you yourself. Keep doing what you're doing — you've got this.' Pooja bagged gold in high jump, becoming the youngest Asian champion from India. | Photo Credit: Asian Athletics She didn't need me after that. She didn't need anyone. Her coach had done his job. And she was ready. A double personal best at just 18 and a continental title? That's not potential — that's power. That's presence. That's a flex. The second moment was quieter — but just as powerful. It was the night before the men's javelin final. I had just returned to the hotel after Pooja's competition, and when I connected to Wi-Fi, I saw multiple missed calls from Sachin Yadav's physio. I called back immediately. 'Nothing urgent,' he said, 'but Sachin wants to talk.' When Sachin came to my room, he looked calm on the outside. He's a towering guy — even taller than me — but I could see the nerves in his eyes. This was his first big international meet. Expectations were high. Pressure was heavy. Before he could even say anything, I said, 'Let's go get ice cream.' That was it. No motivational speeches. No deep strategy. Just a breather. A small moment to forget the weight of the world and remember that he belongs here. ************************************************ DAY 5 The next day? He launched a monster. Just centimetres shy of beating the Olympic champion. It wasn't just a medal, but it was a statement: he's coming. Sachin Yadav launched a 'monster' in javelin throw, just centimeters shy off gold medallist Arshad Nadeem. | Photo Credit: Asian Athletics The one thing I truly realised at this Asian Championships is that the Indian athletics team of this decade feels very different. I saw myself in transition — from being the young rookie who made senior teams at 17, like Pooja is now, to becoming one of the older guys in the squad at 27. But one thing hasn't changed: my intention has always been to go out of my way to make the younger ones feel welcome. Because I remember what it was like to be in their shoes a few years back — unsure if I belonged, quietly doubting myself. The truth is, if you've made the team, you've already done something right. You do belong. And sometimes, reminding someone of that doesn't take a motivational speech. Sometimes, it's as simple as showing up, sharing space, and grabbing an ice cream. I'm genuinely excited about the kind of athletes coming out of India right now — brave, talented, and hungry. This isn't a one-off. This is just the beginning for Indian athletics. Related Topics Asian Athletics Championships
Time of India
a day ago
- Time of India
Ujjain spiritual & wellness summit: Panel discusses harnessing wellness for future; highlights Madhya Pradesh's potential as spiritual investment hub
Spiritual & wellness summit The Spiritual & Wellness Summit in Ujjain witnessed a dynamic opening to its series of discussions with a panel that delved deep into the symbiotic relationship between government policy, private investment, and holistic wellness infrastructure. Kicking off the session, Roshan Kumar Singh, Collector of Ujjain, presented a compelling vision for Simhastha 2028, the upcoming Kumbh Mela, not just as a spiritual gathering but a massive opportunity to reposition Madhya Pradesh as a global wellness destination. Singh underlined that the state government is actively working on a multi-pronged development roadmap leading up to the event ranging from river conservation initiatives like the cleaning of the sacred Shipra, to planning large-scale settlements and modern amenities for the expected influx of pilgrims. He noted that the spiritual grandeur of Simhastha could seamlessly align with the growing global interest in wellness, alternative medicine, and yoga tourism. Moderated by Deepshika Sikarwar, deputy editor, The Economic Times, the first panel discussion revolved around the theme 'Ideating the Partnership Model'. The core premise: how the public and private sectors can forge enduring partnerships to nurture and scale India's wellness sector, with Madhya Pradesh as a natural hub. Panelists included Raghwendra Kumar Singh, principal secretary, DIPIP; Mukund Prasad, director of Leisure Hotels Group; Swami Chaittanya Hari, founder of Yoga Nisarga & Vedic Yoga School; Dr. Ramesh Varier, MD of AVN Group; and Dr. Megha KL, Lead, Strategic Projects at Apollo AyurVAID. The discussion struck a strong economic chord, emphasizing the potential of Madhya Pradesh as a magnet for spiritual and wellness tourism. Speakers cited reasons ranging from its serene natural landscapes and rich forest cover to infrastructural strides and its reputation for cleanliness highlighting cities like Indore, which has consistently topped the country's cleanliness charts. Crucially, the panel explored the untapped promise of India's traditional medicine systems Ayurveda, Yoga, and holistic health as a pillar of future wellness models. With the state's deep-rooted spiritual culture and historical ties to wellness practices, panelists agreed that MP stands at the cusp of becoming a wellness powerhouse. As discussions progressed, emphasis was placed on building trust between public and private sectors, introducing policy incentives, and improving quality control across wellness services. Panelists stressed that such collaboration could enhance accessibility to wellness offerings, especially in underserved areas, while simultaneously creating employment and entrepreneurial opportunities in the state. Up next, the summit will feature a second panel that explores how Madhya Pradesh can develop a holistic wellness ecosystem and skilled workforce to power this vision. The day's events will culminate with a special address by chief minister Mohan Yadav, who is expected to share his vision for Ujjain's spiritual and wellness transformation.
Hindustan Times
2 days ago
- Hindustan Times
Jewar Airport, India's first 100% FDI aviation project, set to transform connectivity
The Noida International Airport also known as Jewar International Airport in Gautam Buddha Nagar is nearing completion, with one runway and a terminal ready for the first flight. Spread across 1,334 hectares, the airport is being developed by Zurich International Airport AG with Yamuna Expressway Industrial Development Authority (YEIDA) executing the project. Noida International Airport construction marks India's first 100 percent foreign direct investment (FDI) project in the aviation sector. Upon full completion, Jewar Airport will feature six runways and six terminal buildings, with an annual passenger handling capacity of 225 million. However, the Indira Gandhi International Airport, New Delhi, is already operating at its peak capacity of 80 million passengers. Jewar will therefore serve not just NCR but also become a major international gateway for the entire country. According to Yamuna Expressway CEO Arunvir Singh, Jewar Airport is not just an NCR facility—it is strategically connected to multiple regions across India. Located just 700 metres from the Yamuna Expressway, the airport will also be linked to the Delhi–Mumbai Expressway (31 km stretch), the Lucknow–Agra Expressway, Ganga Expressway, and the Meerut–Prayagraj Expressway, Singh said. With such connectivity, travel time from Jaipur to the airport will be just 2 hours and 21 minutes by road, he added. The YEIDA, in collaboration with the central government, is ensuring the airport is integrated with multimodal transport systems. A rapid rail corridor is under development, and the Noida Metro extension is underway. The airport will also be linked with a Personal Rapid Transit (PRT) system. For the first time, Indian Railways is constructing an underground transport system connecting the Amritsar–Kolkata corridor via the Chola line, located just 16 km from Jewar. To facilitate airport construction, the YEIDA has acquired 6,000 hectares of land—notably, without a single court case or farmer protest. This has set a benchmark across the country as a model of conflict-free land acquisition, said the state government.
