If you stand at sunrise beside the still waters of Brahma Sarovar, you’ll notice something strange. The air hums quietly. Pilgrims move slowly around the edges. Priests chant mantras that have been spoken here for centuries. And if you listen hard enough, the place almost tells a story : one that flows between faith, history, and forgotten geography.
Because these ponds and tanks scattered across Kurukshetra aren’t just pilgrimage stops. They’re survivors of time: witnesses to the way a myth...