Nilamadhri Falls
A three-tier curtain that shows itself best when monsoon rolls in — locals say the rocks beneath are the colour of the monsoon sky, which is how it got its name.
Come, walk our hills. Bijapur is a quiet stretch of Bastar — a country of waterfalls, sal forests, and tribes that have kept their songs intact. We’d love to show you around.
A three-tier curtain that shows itself best when monsoon rolls in — locals say the rocks beneath are the colour of the monsoon sky, which is how it got its name.
2,799 km² of dry deciduous forest along the Indravati river — the last known stretch where wild buffalo roam in Bastar.
Sal, mahua, tendu. A guide from the village will name every leaf and tell you which ones the bears prefer in May.
A canoe, a flask of tea, mist that does not lift until 9.
The state bird sings before sunrise.
Stories pass between elders. Mahua flowers ferment slowly in clay pots nearby.
Bell metal, terracotta horses, freshly-pressed mustard oil — and the kind of conversations only weekly markets allow.
Each community keeps its own dialect, dance and cosmology. The Murias still hold ghotuls — a youth dormitory tradition unique to Bastar.
Goncha in monsoon, Madai in winter, Hareli for the new sowing. Every village runs on its own clock and welcomes visitors who arrive politely.
Lost-wax dhokra horses. Bell-metal lamps. Red-ant chutney, bamboo shoot curry, mahua-stewed meat. Bring an empty bag and an open palate.