Mumbai to Mussoorie Part 2: Rishikesh, Haridwar & Devprayag

Day 3: Delhi to Rishikesh

The drive from Noida to Rishikesh took us close to five hours — long enough for the plains to slowly loosen their grip and for the air to begin carrying a faint hint of the hills. By the time we checked into our hotel and settled-in a bit, evening had already claimed the town. With public transport unreliable from our hotel location, we decided to embrace togethrness over cafe hopping.

Day 4: Haridwar & Rishikesh

Late morning, we hit the road again — this time towards Haridwar. It was off-season, a small blessing. The ghats were not the surging human tide which we often relate Haridwar with, but spacious, almost contemplative. Without the need to jostle for a view, we could stand quietly and watch the river move with its ancient grace.

As we were too early for Haridwar’s famed Ganga Aarti (evening ritual), we returned to Rishikesh to experience the spiritual aura of Ganga Aarti at its Triveni Ghat.

The aarti there felt less like daily ritual and more like a soulful conversation between moving flames and flowing water. The sky softened into indigo, chants rose and fell, and for a brief moment the town seemed to breathe in unison.

Beyond the ghats and ceremonial fame, Haridwar and Rishikesh reveal something subtler: a rhythm. Not dramatic, not performative — but enduring. And if you arrive here without any haste, they allow you to borrow that rhythm, if only for an evening.

Day 5: Devprayag

Early the next morning, we took an unplanned half-day detour to Devprayag — a quiet, 60-odd kilometres from Rishikesh, yet spiritually several centuries away from the noise of packaged pilgrimage.

The point – tracing the exact geographical and cultural point where the sacred rivers Alaknanda and Bhagirathi merge to form the river Ganga — that is, from this confluence onward, the combined stream is officially and traditionally recognised as the Ganges (Ganga) as we know it.

For much of the year, you can watch the meeting happen in real time. The Bhagirathi arrives darker, more intense, like a thought fully formed. The Alaknanda approaches lighter, carrying silt and memory from distant glaciers. They travel side by side for a brief stretch, distinct yet inseparable, before surrendering to a shared identity.

There are no amplified chants here competing with the current. Only the sound of water negotiating rock. In that moment, you are not standing at a tourist point. You are standing at a beginning.

You descend stepping on jagged uneven steps, as if trying to touch and feel for real something sacred and unscripted. The rivers thunder below, restless and alive. You kneel, cup your palms, and lift the icy current to your face.

The cold does not merely touch you — it jolts you awake. It startles the skin, races through the veins, and snaps every wandering thought into sharp attention. For a fleeting second, the world narrows to water, breath, and heartbeat.

Day 5: Dehradun Foothills

By late afternoon, we checked out of Lemon Tree Hotel Rishikesh and steered towards Taj Mussoorie Foothills. This halt in Dehradun was, strictly speaking, optional. One could bypass it entirely unless the city itself calls to you, or perhaps the curious limestone corridors of Robber’s Cave tempt your sense of exploration.

We, however, came for something more experiential — the unhurried welcome, the precision, the understated luxury that Taj Hotels has long perfected. Anniversaries, after all, are not measured in destinations ticked off, but in the quiet between two heartbeats — in the pauses where the world recedes and only togetherness remains. And on that evening, we chose not to compromise.