Abhishek | Chaser of Monsoon Myths | Lover of Quiet Places | Seeker of Sacred Stillness |

The moment I stepped off the plane at Delhi’s Indira Gandhi International Airport, that familiar humid wall of Indian summer hit me like a wave. I’d been hearing stories about Dehradun for years – whispers of mist-covered valleys, mysterious caves, and legends that seemed to live in the very soil of the Doon Valley. Now I was finally here.

After a day in Delhi getting lost between the madness of Chandni Chowk and the peaceful expanse of India Gate, I set off on a four-hour drive to Dehradun. Just as we entered the city, the first monsoon droplets started falling, and I could smell the wet earth and pine trees before I even rolled down the window. It was intoxicating.

My base for three days was this charming Spanish-themed hotel called Sterling Marbella, tucked away in the hills. What drew me there was its perfect location just 21 minutes from Tapkeshwar Mandir, those very cave shrines my grandfather used to tell me stories about. I barely had time to drop my bags, and I was out the door as if something pulled toward those ancient caves.

The path to Tapkeshwar Mandir was treacherous with all the rain, the stone steps slippery under this canopy of old trees. But when I finally reached the cave shrine dedicated to Lord Shiva, I understood why people have been coming here for centuries. The name Tapkeshwar comes from “tapak” the natural dripping water that falls constantly onto the Shivalinga, like nature’s own blessing. Legend has it that Guru Dronacharya, the legendary teacher from the Mahabharata, used to meditate in these very caves. Standing there, watching those droplets kiss the stone over and over, I felt the weight of all those centuries. The air was thick with incense and devotion, and for the first time, I got why ancient sages chose caves for prayers. There’s a silence there that somehow speaks louder than any chant.

The next morning, I woke to rain hammering on the roof perfect weather for Robber’s Cave, this incredible natural maze of river-carved tunnels just 21 minutes from my hotel. The monsoon had transformed the cave’s gentle stream into a roaring cascade, the water so cold it took my breath away but crystal clear. Local kids dared each other to wade through the darkest parts, their laughter echoing off the walls like music. I followed the water’s path, running my fingers along the smooth sandstone, until I emerged into this hidden pool where sunlight filtered through the trees like liquid gold.

By afternoon, the rain had eased to a gentle drizzle, so I headed to Sahastradhara – “thousand-fold spring” about 32 minutes from the hotel. The sulphur smell hit me first, earthy and sharp, like someone had just struck a match. Water cascaded down these limestone cliffs in delicate threads, collecting in pools below. I dipped my hands in, feeling the minerals coat my skin. Families were picnicking under the pine trees, kids splashing through the shallows, and it struck me how in India, the sacred and ordinary always seem to dance together. This old man selling kulhad chai by the roadside swore the water could cure everything from arthritis to heartbreak. After an hour there, I was ready to believe him.

Three days in Dehradun flew by like a dream, especially staying at Sterling Marbella with its perfect location that made exploring so easy. From the spiritual silence of Tapkeshwar Mandir to the playful mystery of Robber’s Cave and the healing embrace of Sahastradhara, this city had peeled back layers of itself for me, and somehow revealed parts of myself I didn’t know existed.

As my cab pulled away toward Delhi, the hills of Dehradun disappeared into the distance, but the echo of dripping water in that dark cave, the shock of that underground river, and the warmth of those sulphur springs stayed with me. Still do, actually.

If you’ve ever felt that pull toward mountains and myths, if you’ve ever wanted to walk where legends meditated and rivers disappear into the earth, then Dehradun is calling your name. And when you go, let the land speak to you. You might just hear the whispers of Guru Dronacharya himself.

Trade noise for nature at Sterling Marbella