It has been a hectic few weeks, on the final push before coming home. After a few days in Delhi, an intense introduction to India, we moved north, exploring the Punjab with the wonderful assistance of Georgia's cousin's parents - Mr Ram Bedi and his wife Shubi - and the Rishi family. It really was the whole of the Rishis - travelling across the region, meeting at least fifty relatives, some in small rural villages others in every major town around. It was an unforgettable way to discover the details of life in one of the less touristic areas of India.

Particularly inspiring was the chance to meet working musicians, again all within the family. Shubi Bedi's niece, Pooja, is a Indian classical singer and composer who has won national competitions for her performances in both Indian classical music and Punjabi folk. We were fortunate to hear her sing on a number of occasions and have some recordings of one evening below. We were also able to meet with one of the foremost music producers of Punjabi pop music, Tarun Rishi and spent a fascinating day in his recording studio in the major industrial city of Ludhiana.

We were even able to have a family Christmas in Chandigarh with the Bedis and Rishis, including a traditional Christmas Eve, with everyone sitting around telling stories and singing songs, only the mulled wine was replaced with sweet, spicy masala tea and instead of carols, it was traditional Punjabi and Urdu songs.

The hospitality, glorious food and just simple generosity that we experienced over these two weeks was quite extraordinary, unlike anything either of us have experienced before. So it was with deep gratitude that we left the family and headed north to Simla, in the foothills of the Himalayas.

Simla was the British summer capital in the days of the Raj, with a cool climate far removed from the heat of the plains around Delhi. In the middle of winter, however, with one jumper more than a summer wardrobe in our rucksacks, it was extremely cold. The winding journey on the toy train and the stunning views across these lower mountain ranges and down into the valleys, more than made up for it. It has undoubtedly changed a lot since the days of the Raj - for one thing, Indians are now allowed to walk on The Mall, the main artery of the town, and many do, Simla being one of the prime domestic tourist destinations in India.

From here we travelled west, right to the border of Pakistan, where we witnessed the rather strange Wagha ceremony. Every evening, the guards on either side of the border take down their countries' respective flags in such an elaborate manner, it has become a hugely popular spectacle. On either side, crowds gather to cheer on their guards as they strut like cockerels trained by John Cleese to the accompaniment of Indian (or Pakistani) pop music blasted out of enormous speakers. As our companion was quick to point out, on the Pakistani side, the crowds are segregated by sex, while on the Indian side they are not. I remembered this as we filed out after the ceremony, reading the rather pointed sign, "Welcome to India, the world's largest democracy".

From here, we raced through some extraordinary tourist sights, like the Golden Temple in Amritsar - a truly beautiful place with a wonderful sense of calm - the Taj Mahal in Agra, and Rajasthan before arriving in the Kerala in the very south of India. We travelled up to the less populated, northern part of Kerala and have been esconced here for the last week, dividing our time between the five deserted palm-tree-lined beaches within 10 minutes walk of here and hunting for Theyyam.

Theyyam are ancient ritual ceremonies that are performed throughout this region between October and March each year. Every ceremony takes place in a different location, from people's front rooms to large temples; even some in the middle of the jungle. Each ceremony is dedicated to a particular deity and involves the acting out of various rituals including the spiritual possession of the performers, all of whom are elaborately attired in the figure of their specific god. Frequently, the performer enters a state of trance, accompanied by a chorus of drums playing rhythms so complex it can take up to ten years of study to take part in these events. Some Theyyam last a few hours, others can go all through the night and much of the next day. Even going to bed, one is surrounded by Theyyam: the drums and chanting drift through the forest from miles away.

And so we must leave you; we return home in a few days. It has been a wonderful journey, filled with unexpected and fascinating turns. We hope that the articles, photos, and sound and video clips have allowed you at least a glimpse of our experiences. Thank you so much for following us.

Music Clips

Here are two tracks of Pooja, the classical singer from Chandigarh.

• Crows - a Punjabi folksong, where a woman on her wedding night, leaning out of the window, asks the crow not to tell her mother that she is crying.
• Wedding Song