Is There a Real You?

A Historyonroad Story I have been walking the lanes of Pune since sunrise, and somewhere between the old Peshwa quarters and the quiet ghats of the Mula Mutha river, a question settled into my chest and refused to leave. My…
The Story Behind the Story
The Story Behind the Story

A Historyonroad Story I have been walking the lanes of Pune since sunrise, and somewhere between the old Peshwa quarters and the quiet ghats of the Mula Mutha river, a question settled into my chest and refused to leave. My…

A fictional story by HistoryOnRoad Setting A quiet rooftop cafe in Indiranagar, Bengaluru. The evening traffic hums below, but up here the air feels calmer, almost detached from the noise of the world. Three friends who studied together years ago…

The rain had just let up over Indiranagar, leaving the auto-rickshaw horns sounding wetter than usual, when Ratna slid her phone across the table. “Read this,” she said. “It’s got half of LinkedIn fighting.” Shiva wiped condensation off his glass…

What do you do when you discover that an old friend loves you differently than you love him — and that the difference has been there, quietly, all along? There were nine of them. Nobody remembers exactly when the friendship…

A HistoryOnRoad Travel Diary — by Ganesh Some journeys are about distance. This one was about descent. Long before highways cut through them in straight, confident lines, the Sahyadri hills separated two very different worlds — the wide, dry plateau…

A Special Report on Civility, Disruption, and the Quiet Cost of a Democracy That Won’t Sit Down and Talk Story + Report by HistoryOnRoad CHENNAI — On the last Sunday of every month, two men sit on a third-floor balcony…

A HistoryOnRoad Travel Diary — by Ganesh Some roads are older than the countries they now pass through. The Grand Trunk Road is one of them. Long before it carried that name, it existed as the Uttarapatha — the northern…

A HistoryOnRoad Travel Diary — by Ganesh I did not plan this trip to learn history. I planned it to walk somewhere old. But somewhere between Tashkent’s airport lounge and my first cup of green tea in Samarkand, I realised…

A Tale of Gunya and Jivali from the Satpuda Hills They say that long ago, when the monsoon clouds still remembered how to gather thick and low over the Satpuda ranges, Ganpati Bappa himself once wandered these hills — not…