Widowvan.
Last Week, The Guild of Service ( an NGO) released the result of a survey on the widows of Vrindavan. Reading it depressed me, the feeling compounded by the resurfacing of some memories I had strenuously tried to exterminate. Travel does not always take one to enchanting places. There are visits that disappoint too and a few that fall flat . Yet , I have never really regretted visiting any of the places I ever have. Except one, because of the bitter after taste it left. Vrindavan. I wish I had never gone there. "The Forest of Brinda "( The Holy Basil) is where the Divine Brat Krishna played out his leelas, say our Myths. A land of Peacocks, parrots and deer, of gardens in perpetual bloom, of perfumed breeze and sparkling streams, of blissful people enjoying blessed lives............. Ofcourse, when I finally did visit Vrindavan, those rose-tinted glasses of childhood fantasy were not on. One was pragmatic enough to assimilate the fact that Krishna's fabled playgrou