Travelling India with kids - International Traveller

It may seem like mission impossible with kids in tow, but with meticulous planning and a good guide, the intoxicating wonders of India make for a totally unforgettable family experience.

Dawn breaks at the Taj Mahal. The first pale rays of sun cast an almost ghostly glow over the white marble edifice before us.

The air is still, with the humid promise of yet another scorching day ahead. Standing among just a handful of early visitors, it feels like we have the world’s most famous monument to love all to ourselves, and the fact that we’re sharing this moment, together as a family, is truly special.

Taj Mahal early in the morning, India. — The Taj Mahal early in the morning before the crowds.

When we decide to take our children to India, everyone tells us we are mad. “It’s so crowded," they say, “so dirty. What happens if they get sick?" The thought has crossed my mind. We’ve all heard tales of the horrors of ‘Delhi belly’. However, I take the negativity as a bit of a challenge. Having just published a book on travelling with kids, there is a part of me that wants to practise what I preach.

We’ve been invited to a wedding in Chennai and decide to make a family trip of it, spending just over a week in Delhi, Rajasthan and Agra before heading south. This beguiling and mystical country has been on my bucket list for years, and how often do you get invited to an Indian wedding?

With kids in tow, however, I realise we’ll need a little comfort and the security of travelling with an operator who knows the region well. We’re loosely following an itinerary that Intrepid, specialists in sustainable travel, use in its group family trips. I’m not a fan of group travel, so we pay a bit extra to see the country as a private party.

You don’t go to India without substantial preparations, particularly if you’re travelling en famille. On a practical level there are visas to apply for – a perfect introduction to the mind-boggling bureaucracy of India.

A tip for young players: allow plenty of time. The photo requirements alone do my head in: precisely 300×300 pixels for the online application (I end up sending our passport photos off to a man in Bangladesh to resize), but two inches by two inches for the printed photo required.

Elephants on the streets of Jaipur, India.

India for beginners

Staying healthy anywhere with kids is important but in India it’s imperative. There are vaccinations to be had – 11 injections between us variously for Hepatitis A, Hepatitis B, Typhoid, Diphtheria, Tetanus and Pertussis – and a bagful
of diarrhoea medication, rehydration salts and extra-strong repellent to pack. It sets us back $1000, but what price health?

Our travel doctor lectures us on how best to avoid getting sick: by eating cooked food only, avoiding ice unless we know it’s clean, and drinking water (and cleaning our teeth) from sealed bottles.

The children are warned not to pat dogs, cats or monkeys since rabies is rife.

We also work on getting the kids engaged with the trip. Lulu, eight, unearths a fabulous Indian cookbook and announces she’d like to stay at the Taj Mahal. She does a school project on India even before we leave home. Her brother, Archie, 10, is keen to practise Indian dining etiquette, sitting on his left hand and eating only with his right.

Our route is a well-worn tourist path from Delhi, through eastern Rajasthan, the land of the kings, and across to Agra in the neighbouring state of Uttar Pradesh. We’re travelling by private car with a driver and on India’s famous trains.

It’s 45 degrees in the shade on our first day and we’re reminded that July really isn’t the best time to travel here. Even the hotel pool at the über-luxe Taj Mahal hotel in New Delhi’s leafy embassy quarter is hot.

The following morning we meet our tour leader Mahi, who travels with us for the next week, and delve into the pulsing heart of Old Delhi.

Jama Masjid mosque’s carpeted interior, India. — Jama Masjid mosque’s carpeted interior.

After a short masterclass in Hindu deities – monkey man Hanuman becoming the kids’ instant favourite – he takes us to Jama Masjid mosque, India’s largest, a massive red sandstone and white marble structure built between 1644 and 1658.

We literally hot-foot it across the scorching stone courtyard that can fit up to 25,000 worshippers. The heat is oppressive and the nylon full-length robe I have to wear makes it worse. The mosque is magnificent, and definitely worth seeing, but we’re happy to leave.

A mix of jetlag and heat exhaustion almost takes its toll on Lulu and for a moment I think those naysayers might have got it right, until we enter Sheeshganj Gurudwara, a Sikh temple, where music is playing and everything feels more zen.

In the langar, a free kitchen that churns out food for thousands of worshippers every day, staffed by volunteers and run on donations, Lulu learns the fine art of chapati rolling with some elderly women. Later we sit cross-legged and eat the flatbread with rice and dahl.

Reinvigorated, Lulu is particularly keen to see the Red Fort, where the Mughal emperors lived and ruled. However, with the mercury rising we snap photos at the entrance and retreat to our air-conditioned hotel before heading to Delhi’s station to catch our overnight train to Jodhpur.

Travelling by train in India

Long-distance train travel in India is a must-do adventure, a chance to observe the entire spectrum of Indian society.

The reality of our two-tier, first-class, air-conditioned sleeper cabin is very different to the third-class, unreserved and non-air-conditioned seating at the rear of the train. Where we each have a sleeper berth, a pillow, a set of laundered sheets wrapped in brown paper and a curtain for privacy, third-class passengers are jammed into crowded cars or perched on luggage racks for the 13-hour journey.

Seeing the mass of humanity crammed in I’m relieved that my ultra-budget backpacking days are well behind me. We’re lulled to sleep by the clickety-clack of rolling wheels on track and the noisy hum of the fan in our four-sleeper berth.

When we wake it’s to views of dusty desert flashing past, punctuated every now and then by the vivid reds, oranges and bright pinks of Rajasthani women in their colourful saris.

Local women in theiir gorgeous saris, India. — Local women in their gorgeous saris.

The children learn their first words of Hindi – “masala chai, masala chai" – as the chai wallah makes his way down the carriage with a cauldron of sweet, spicy, milky tea. It’s the start of an addiction that lasts well beyond our trip.

At stations where the train stops, we find men with carts frying spicy pakoras in bubbling woks; we buy them by weight and eat them straight from the newspaper they’re served in.

In Jodhpur, the Blue City, so-called for its mass of square houses painted Brahmin blue, the kids enthusiastically follow an audio guide through the spectacular Mehrangarh Fort, which rises out of the rock on which and of which it is built. We indulge in lassi, thick fruit milkshakes, for which the city is famous.

The next morning we’re up at 4.30am to take another crowded train from Jodphur to Jaipur, the Pink City. We are guided through the beautifully decorated City Palace, where members of the former royal family still live, see elephants being ridden through the streets, take photos of Hawa Mahal, the Palace of Winds (the most photographed building in India after the Taj Mahal) from where women of the royal court would watch the goings on below them, and explore the immense and breathtaking Amber Fort, north-east of the city centre.

The Palace of Whispers, India. — The Palace of Whispers.

Family-friendly highlights

The children try their hand at fabric block printing, a major industry in these parts, father and son buy matching elephant-print shirts, and we check out jewellers selling precious stones.

The family highlight is catching a Bollywood movie at the famous Raj Mandir Cinema, the interior of which is like the inside of a big strawberry pavlova. The movie is in Hindi without subtitles, but it doesn’t matter; I’ve never heard my daughter laugh this much.

Between Jaipur and Agra we stop at Karauli, a rural village not far from Ranthambore National Park, famous for its Bengal tiger population. (When planning the trip we were very keen on doing a tiger safari and were disappointed to discover the park was closing the day before we were due to arrive.)

We overnight at Bhanwar Vilas, a rural palace of sorts with the feel of a hunting lodge, gorgeous guestrooms and a stunning courtyard. We’re greeted with ceremony, receiving bindis and marigold garlands, and take a walk into the local village where tourism doesn’t exist.

We’re the only guests in residence and the kids decide an impromptu fashion parade is in order, helping themselves to the contents of the palace’s little shop selling clothes and handicrafts by local artisans.

We bring home several spectacular additions for the dress-up box. Indeed, you can’t help but go a bit native, sartorially speaking, when in India. Western clothes are just boring in comparison to the elegant, silky saris and tunics, and kurtas in gorgeous printed cottons.

Wearing traditional dress is a fun way for kids to learn about new cultures.

For the kids the highlight of the trip is the warm and wonderful Mahi, our tour leader, who fascinates them with stories of the Maharajas who ruled this land, and legends relating to the Hindu gods. Where possible he enables us to interact with local people – a potter here, a carpet seller there – to get a true sense of how they work and live.

He also has the very useful ability to know when it’s OK to have ice in our drinks. His expression ‘100 per cent safe’ becomes the catchcry of the trip. And when we eventually say goodbye there are tears all around.

For me, one of the highlights is having enough comforts laid on – accommodation, transfers, decent cars, good drivers – to let me relax and think about what we’re seeing rather than worrying about the logistics so often associated with family travel.

The kids struggle a little with the food, finding the reality of ‘not very spicy’ different to what they’re used to at home. I reason that mango lassi, naan and hot chips cover several essential food groups.

I also like seeing the Intrepid sustainable travel philosophy in practice, and explaining it to the children.

For instance, we don’t ride elephants at Agra’s Amber Fort because there’s evidence to suggest the mistreatment of these working animals in various parts of the world.

Taj complex, India. — If you get up early enough, you can have the Taj complex to yourself, which makes it much easier when exploring with little ones.

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Sunrise at the Taj Mahal

We have eight days of extraordinary moments, from travelling by train to visiting forts and temples, including the abandoned Mughal city of Fatehpur Sikri and the stunning Agra Fort. The kids love it all.

But seeing the Taj Mahal at dawn is the absolute highlight of the trip. I had worried that the reality wouldn’t live up to expectations. I needn’t have.

The children are as moved as we are by the story of devotion that is the foundation of the building. Our 4:30am start is painful, but means we can avoid the crowds for the all-important photo opportunity.

If we did the trip again, I’d travel at a different time of year when it wasn’t so hot, we’d do a tiger safari, and we’d up the ante on accommodation to experience some of Rajasthan’s glorious palace hotels.

However, none of us laments the trip that wasn’t, we celebrate the trip that was… and the fact that no one got sick.

Details

Getting there

Singapore Airlines has two flights per day to Delhi from Australia via Singapore.

Return fares from the east coast start from $1192; from the west coast they start from $1191.

Staying there

The Taj Mahal Hotel, New Delhi, is a little slice of luxury.

Double rooms are from $222 per night plus taxes.

See tajhotels.com

Taj Mahal Hotel, India. — Inside the lavish Taj Mahal Hotel.

Playing there

Intrepid Travel offers a number of group departures from Delhi to Rajasthan and Agra including the Northern India Family Holiday for 10 days and the Golden Triangle journey for seven days.

Itineraries can be organised as a private trip, with an additional fee.

See intrepidtravel.com.

Keep planning your trip with our ultimate travel guide to India.

After youth-led protests in 2025, this year Nepal elected a 35-year-old former rapper as Prime Minister. In a country where tourism is its biggest industry, what’s next for travellers?

In 1986, Nepal changed its clock. It had used India Standard Time since 1920 so, to differentiate, it wound its clock 15 minutes ahead of, not behind, its big-brother neighbour. Boss move. “Nepal is strongly opposed to the idea that our identity is connected to India,” says Community Homestay Network (CHN) guide Bikal Khanal.

Tharu dance is traditionally set to hand drums. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

Today, Nepal is the only independent country with a 45-minute deviation to universal time; an oddity that’s become a symbol of national pride. The quirk is nearly as endearing as Kathmandu’s Tribhuvan airport where carved varnished wood and shiny red bricks rule. One sign points to a ‘Travelator’ and another to a ‘Grievance Handling Desk’ while visas are noisily stamped at customs for US dollars, cash only. When am I?

Spot the endemic Nepal gray langur. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The 15 or 45 minute anomaly sees me tap out completely on timezone calculations. Why bend my brain calculating if it’s quarter to or quarter past elsewhere when I’m in the honking here and now of Kathmandu where the air is high-altitude crisp, the prayer flags flutter and the street dogs howl?

How tourism is changing in Nepal

Bardiya National Park is rich with wildlife. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

India is not the only association many Nepalis would like to shake. With eight of the world’s 10 tallest mountains, including Mount Everest and Annapurna, Nepal has long attracted mountaineers and trekkers, and expedition numbers are continuing to rise.

Tourism is one of the country’s biggest sources of foreign currency, so this growth is not negative, per se. But according to Ang Tshering Lama, who co-founded Phaplu Mountain Bike Club, being reduced to a mere trekking destination is limiting.

“Trekking is just one layer of our identity,” says Ang. “When it becomes the dominant narrative, it limits how we’re seen and how we see ourselves.” Nepal’s recent success, however, in diverting trekkers to less-trafficked areas such as Manaslu mofuntain, where visitor numbers rose by 117 per cent last year, offers hope that tourism can diversify even more radically.

Local men in Bhada village. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

The founder of CHN, Shiva Dhakal, wants that change. “The whole idea of the Community Homestay Network is to promote experiences outside of trekking,” he says. “Community tourism changes lives and helps kids stay home instead of coming to the city or migrating to the Middle East.”

Ang grew up seeing people leave, “not because they wanted to but because there weren’t enough opportunities to stay”, he states. Yet from remote villages to living traditions; food, art, music and emerging subcultures, “there’s so much that’s not being seen.”

CHN is opening some of those doors. It doesn’t own, or fund, any homes. Rather, it promotes homestays to travellers on a single, slick platform, while fostering entrepreneurship in places where women, marginalised castes, Indigenous people and the youth stand to benefit the most.

A new generation demanding more

Dalla Town Hall, where volunteers discuss anti-poaching tactics. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The future prospects of next-gen Nepalis can no longer be ignored. On a Kathmandu tour with 33-year-old guide Monica K.C, we pass buildings torched in the September 2025 ‘Gen Z protests’, including the Supreme Court and Parliament House. Seventy-two people died. “They were anti-corruption protests,” says Monica. “Politicians’ children are living a lavish life but the airports are crowded with youngsters leaving to find work.”

We stop in ‘little Tibet’ at the wondrous sixth-century Boudha Stupa. “The wheel of life is Buddhism in a nutshell,” says Monica. “Things such as hate, ignorance and anger keep you rotating around the wheel, so you must follow the principles of Buddhism to detach. If you can’t, there’s no nirvana for you.”

Boudha Stupa's prayer wheels — Boudha Stupa’s prayer wheels are used to recite Buddhist prayers. (Credit: Kate Lewis)

In a sun-drenched twist to the usual temple visit, we ascend the stupa’s sloping plinth and roam its whitewashed dome. Tendrils of diaphanous prayer flags stream from a steeple-like structure where the Buddha’s unblinking eyes stare out. No nirvana for you…

bouda stupa prayer flags — Tibetan-style prayer flags embellish the whitewashed dome of Bouda Stupa, a Buddhist temple. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

The dome is delightfully free of guard rails or chiding from security. There is, however, a stern ‘No TikTok’ sign, perhaps in response to the youth’s newly flexed power. The booted-out Prime Minister, K.P. Sharma Oli, was replaced in a resounding election victory in March by 35-year-old Balendra Shah of the Rastriya Swatantra Party (RSP) – a former rapper and mayor of Kathmandu. The RSP’s manifesto indicates tourism is a priority, and that Nepal’s cultural identity in areas such as gastronomy will be strengthened.

Boudha Stupa vendors — Vibrant souvenir shops and cafes around Boudha Stupa. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

A more confronting stop awaits at Pashupatinath Temple. Today is Bala Chaturdashi, a Hindu festival where thousands of devotees gather to honour their dead ancestors. Vendors hauling foam mattresses do a lucrative trade as people set up for a night of vigil. This includes burning the bodies of recently deceased relatives on bamboo pyres in the Bagmati River, which flows into the sacred Ganges.

A woman at annual Hindu festival Bala Chaturdashi, in Kathmandu. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Wrapped in a shroud, the bodies are positioned with their heads facing north to the Himalayas where Lord Shiva resides. They’re covered with flowers and straw and set alight by male family members.

Hours later, the ashes are swept into the river where devotees will take a holy dip the next day. As much as Monica assures us it’s not voyeuristic to watch, I struggle to do so. “Here you see the reality of life because everyone ends up there,” she says, gesturing to the river.

Life unfiltered in the Terai region

tharu woman — Tharu woman and master weaver Parbati Chaudhary in Bhada Village. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

The reality of life needs processing time, which the western Terai region delivers in spades. The Terai is largely separated from India by the Karnali River and Bardiya National Park, where elephants, rhinos and the elusive Bengal tiger roam.

Once a nomadic tribe, the Indigenous Tharu people are now the largest ethnic group here. “They didn’t know their daily life was interesting for international travellers but they’re starting to understand now,” says CHN founder Shiva.

Take a Jeep safari through Bardiya National Park. (Credit: Bheem Thapa)

We fly Buddha Air to Dhangadhi airport and drive five hours to stay in Tharu homes. The journey to Bhada village is a blur of roadside fruit stalls, traffic-stopping sacred cows and fields sown with wheat, rice, mustard, spinach, cauliflower and potatoes. Nepal’s agriculture feeds only Nepal.

Marigolds are an important part of Hindu rituals. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

“The only thing we export is young people,” says our guide Bikal. As the light dims and we plunge evermore rural, mysterious mounds of compacted hay – some house-sized – loom like the creatures from Where The Wild Things Are. Even our trusty driver gets flummoxed by a dirt road that abruptly ends and we find ourselves hurtling across a paddock.

On arrival, some are ferried to mud-walled cottages greened by gourd creepers, with thatched roofs and rustic-chic mosquito nets. Myself and two others are ushered to the home of corner store owner, mechanic and mushroom farmer Man Kumar Chilaruwa and his wife Rajkumari.

community homestay entrance — A warm welcome at a community homestay. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

They escort us to a bunker-esque back building with steel doors and a folding security gate, behind which is gleaming linoleum, dolphin-printed tiles and a shower cavity that must be gingerly stepped through to reach the toilet.

The ceiling lights emit a rainbow of colours (the bathroom light gets stuck in, frankly, a quite frightening red). We’re nevertheless touched that our hosts invested in all this bling when the average salary is around $275 a month.

In the coming days, we participate in Tharu traditions such as making moonshine, dancing, weaving straw handicrafts and gold-panning. We’re fed well with staples of rice, mustard greens, lentil pancakes, daal, curried chicken and tomato chutney served on antibacterial saal leaves.

food at community homestay — Dig in. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Sonara community homestay president Indradevi Tharu tells us river snails are often served, and the boiled and pickled flesh of rats hunted in the rice fields. “Perhaps next time?” we say and all have a laugh.

The power of community homestays

community homestay owners in Nepal — Barda community homestay owners Parbati Chaudhary and Ram Krishni Devi Chaudhary. (Credit: Simon Urwin)

Immersing Western visitors in foreign cultural practices is not new. But with the Tharu, I never get that uneasy sensation that I’m being performed for. Despite being the only tourists, there’s no ‘othering’; just warm, composed and ultra-dignified welcomes. Like we’ve always been here.

“I love to have travellers in my village so I can see the world,” says local woman Parbati Chaudhary. “Why would I travel the world when the world comes to me?”

The graceful acceptance the Tharu offer, as well as the slow pace, works miracles on my frazzled nervous system. One day I even take a nap on a vacant homestay bed.

Sonara community room — An authentic stay in the Sonara community. (Credit: Kate Hennessy)

Roosters strut and goats bray as we sit on the ground in al fresco kitchens, rolling rice flour into cylinders steamed to make dhikri (dumplings). When water is needed, we fetch it using a hand-operated pump as a family of ducks strolls by, side-eying us like curious neighbours.

Animal lovers will delight in Tharu villages. Kind and resourceful inventions are everywhere, such as snacking stations where two posts lean together, with leafy boughs dangling on rope for baby goats to forage from.

CHN’s CEO, Aayusha Prasain, nods knowingly when one in our group says she cried when she left her host, Shayam Chaudhary, in Bhada. Shayam’s 17-year-old son, Prashant, had translated, which deepened the connection.

“Community tourism turns travel into a relationship, not a transaction,” says Aayusha. “It places decision-making power in the hands of local communities, especially women and youth.” Since 2018, CHN has hosted more than 4000 travellers from 52 countries in 408 households, and estimates women’s participation has increased by 381 per cent.

In the Bardiya community, where vexing human-animal conflict has been a balancing act for decades due to elephants raiding crops, long-time homestay operator Salik Ram Chaudhary says young people keep the older ones on their toes.

“We can’t keep homestays stagnant,” he says. “We have to upgrade our service and redefine our product or young people won’t see it as an attractive business. If we can keep evolving with this travelling trend we’re confident the youths will stay and continue it.”

Back in Kathmandu, Monica explains that after the deaths of young protestors in September, a determination had spread to not let their sacrifice be in vain. “We want to keep holding the government accountable,” she says. “We don’t know what situation we’re facing, but we’re ready to face it.”

Interested in Nepal but prefer to experience it in total comfort? Read our guide to luxury travel in Nepal.

A guide to travelling India with kids