Mathura & Vrindavan

Braj is not a place you see so much as one you join. In Vrindavan the day starts before dawn with the mangala aarti, and by seven the lanes around Banke Bihari are full of pilgrims calling out to the deity who is shown only in glimpses, the curtain drawn every few minutes because, the priests say, his gaze is too much to bear for long. Radha Raman keeps the Gaudiya Vaishnava line of Chaitanya's followers and Radha Vallabh the older Hit Harivansh tradition; Nidhivan is a tangle of dwarf tulsi trees that everyone leaves before dark; the ISKCON temple sings kirtan through the day; and Prem Mandir, in white marble, is lit up at night like a wedding cake.

Across at Mathura, the Krishna Janmabhoomi complex marks the prison cell of his birth, the Dwarkadhish temple runs a jewelled swing festival in the monsoon, and at dusk Vishram Ghat holds a Yamuna aarti with floating lamps. Beyond the two towns is a larger Braj: the 21-kilometre parikrama around Govardhan hill that pilgrims walk barefoot, and Barsana, where women beat men with sticks at Lathmar Holi a week before the festival. Holi in Braj runs for over a week and is the loudest celebration in the country.

Food is prasad first: Mathura's pedas, makhan mishri, kachori and chhena sweets. Dress simply, carry no leather, and expect monkeys who steal spectacles.