They have been there for millennia, before the earth was born, taking light years to reach us. For all you know, that shining, twinkling object in the firmament that fascinates us has been dead for Ages; its light reaching us only aeons later. Stars are the wonders of the universe, observed from a distance as the alphabets of the night sky, the hieroglyphs of mystics and the portals of astronomers who study time and distance. Recently, the skies of Delhi were so polluted that taking a breath was an effort in itself, but that did not stop enterprising stargazers from peering into their telescopes.
For centuries, Indians have looked up at the night sky not just with curiosity, but with reverence. The digital age has made stargazing easier and more democratic. Affordable telescopes, mobile sky-mapping apps, and online astrophotography forums have opened the heavens to anyone with patience and curiosity. “Earlier, astronomy felt like an elite science—you needed resources, instruments, or institutional access,” says 19-year-old astrophotographer Prathamesh Jaju. “Now, anyone can look up, click, and discover.” Public interest has surged in tandem with India’s space achievements. From the Mangalyaan mission to the Chandrayaan-3 landing on the Moon’s south pole, national pride has turned into personal inspiration. “Every ISRO success sparks a wave of enthusiasm—suddenly, you see more people attending stargazing nights or buying their first telescope,” says K Kasturirangan, former ISRO chairman. “It’s a remarkable period for astronomy in India, and we must nurture this curiosity among the young.”
Across cities, astronomy societies are mushrooming. Kerala, Pune, Bengaluru, and Hyderabad have seen a rise in amateur clubs hosting night-sky watch sessions. “The excitement is contagious,” says Meera Krishnan, a member of the Cochin Astronomy Club. Yet, challenges remain. Equipment is still costly, skies are often obscured by pollution—as is the case in North India every winter post Diwali—and rural schools rarely have access to telescopes or trained educators. A recent study found that while Indian students show high interest in astronomy, many lack hands-on exposure. “Curiosity is abundant,” says Delhi-based physics teacher Ravi Verma, “but access is not.”
At 4,500 metres above sea level, Hanle in Ladakh has earned a new kind of fame—as India’s first Dark Sky Reserve. On a clear, wind-bitten night, the air thins to glass. The mountains disappear into the blackness. And then the stars appear. All around, people gather with telescopes and cameras, their breath fogging in the cold. A woman from a nearby village—once a shepherd, now a trained “astro guide”—points at the horizon. “That’s Jupiter,” she says, her gloved hand tracing an arc through the air. You can hear a quiet thrill ripple through the group. For a moment, the sky feels close enough to touch.
Elsewhere, in the hill villages of Uttarakhand, evenings begin with hot chai and end with gasps of wonder. The “Nakshatra Sabhas” here are part science camp, part cultural revival—where telescopes stand beside bonfires, and elders narrate how constellations shaped their planting cycles. In Kerala, it’s different but the same. Beneath the wet smell of rain and river, young enthusiasts set up telescopes near Vithura and Kulathupuzha. They wait for the monsoon clouds to part—sometimes for hours—just to glimpse a comet, or the Milky Way’s faint smear.
In the fiscal year 2024-25, nearly 40 per cent of tourists engaged in stargazing and astrotourism activities, reflecting a significant shift towards nocturnal nature experiences. Globally, the astrotourism market was valued at $250 million in 2023 and is projected to grow at a 10 per cent compound annual growth rate (CAGR), reaching $400 million by 2030, with India emerging as a key destination.
Into the Night
Maharashtra’s geography—a mix of hills, plateaus, and forests—offers dark skies within a few hours’ drive of the cities. “You don’t have to go to Ladakh or Spiti always,” says Umesh Ghude, co-founder of the Amateur Astronomy Club. “Just a few hours from Mumbai or Pune, and you can see the Milky Way with your eyes.” The region’s western belt has quietly emerged as India’s newest stargazing corridor. In Pune, Tamhini Ghat, Panshet, and Bhimashankar Wildlife Sanctuary draw amateur astronomers year-round, while Nashik’s Saptashrungi Hills and Deolali offer open horizons ideal for celestial viewing. Closer to the city, Jawhar, Igatpuri, and Bhandardara have become weekend havens. “The monsoon season, from June to September, is off-limits,” Ghude explains.
Stargazing Mumbai, another collective of enthusiasts, organises star parties, astro-tours, and school events across the region. “Foreigners come too—from Japan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Sri Lanka,” says founder Sandip Shelar. Growing up in Dhagaon, a small village 80 km from Mumbai, Shelar spent nights on his courtyard floor, tracing constellations until sleep took over. “We didn’t realise it would become a luxury,” he says. When city friends visited, he showed them the night sky; their awe sparked the idea for a public stargazing session. By 2014, Stargazing Mumbai was born. As Mumbai’s light pollution worsened, Shelar shifted events to darker skies in Bhandardara and, four years ago, quit his IT job to teach astronomy full time.
In Delhi and its surroundings, a new wave of stargazing enthusiasts has emerged, despite the city’s heavy light pollution. At Forest Spirit Learning in Gurugram, children lie sprawled across the grass, eyes fixed on a sky freckled with stars. “When children look up, they ask the most beautiful questions—about where we come from, how small we are, and how everything is connected,” says founder and environmental activist Jyoti Raghavan. In Mizoram’s highlands, where city lights fade early, stargazing is quietly taking root. F Ricky Lalremruatpuia, a regional education officer, recalls buying his first telescope in 2019 while posted in Lunglei, where he hosted moon and stargazing parties with friends—“some of the most memorable moments of my life,” he says. In Aizawl, the state’s Science Centre now offers students a closer look through its powerful instrument. “On clear winter nights, the Milky Way sometimes arches even over the city—while the hill stations of Reiek and Hmuifang offer dark, glittering sky,” adds Ricky.
Further north, Himachal Pradesh’s Spiti Valley is emerging as another celestial hub. With government-installed telescopes and community-led stargazing initiatives, Spiti is positioning itself as a sustainable astrotourism destination. Isa Khan, a photographer and videographer, has long lost count of how many times he has watched the Milky Way arc over the Spiti Valley. But he remembers the first time vividly. “It was a road trip with my brother,” he recalls. That was back in 2018, about seven years ago, when he first looked up and saw the Milky Way.
Mumbai-based physicist Sameer Mathe is one of three founders of Arc Educators, an astronomy education and travel initiative that began in 2016 when he and two college friends—Parag Thakkar and Nitin Tiwari—decided to share their lifelong fascination with the night sky. “We were all physics students,” he recalls. “Our professors used to take us for stargazing sessions during college. Those experiences never left us.” What began as weekend skywatching sessions for school students and hobbyists around Mumbai has since evolved into a nationwide movement. Arc Educators has introduced more than 50,000 people to astronomy. “Covid changed everything,” he explains. “When tourism began to recover, people were craving meaningful experiences. It felt like the right moment to bring astronomy into travel.” In 2022, Mathe and his team launched their first Astro Tour—an immersive expedition through India’s dark-sky regions. One key element, Mathe says, is promoting scientific temper. “We do sessions on myth versus science,” he explains. The equipment is equally impressive. The team carries telescopes ranging from `50,000 to `2 lakh in value. Through them, participants can glimpse distant wonders—the Andromeda Galaxy, the Dumbbell and Ring Nebulae, and even Saturn’s moons. Now certified as an ISRO Space Tutor, Arc Educators also conducts astronomy-based learning programmes for students.
Likewise, at Pench Jungle Camp, evenings are no longer just a lull between wildlife safaris and dinner. As night falls over the dense forests of Madhya Pradesh, a new kind of adventure begins: a sky safari. Guests gather on the camp’s open lawn, where a professional-grade telescope has been set up, ready to reveal the celestial wonders above. Seema Vishwakarma, naturalist at Jungle Camps India, describes the experience as “a sky safari after dark.” Guests are guided through the night sky, learning not just how to operate the telescope but also how to identify planets, constellations, and the sprawling Milky Way. Pench is part of a growing astrotourism movement in India, buoyed by its designation as a Dark Sky Reserve. The local Forest Department has set up a small observatory at Sillari Gate, open to the public late at night for a nominal fee of `100-200. But what sets Jungle Camps apart is the combination of technology, storytelling, and hands-on experience. Vishwakarma says, “We give a five- to six-minute presentation before each session—a short introduction to the Milky Way, the Seven Sisters, and star families—so guests know what to expect.” The camp’s astrotourism initiatives reflect a broader shift in travel experiences, blending education, culture, and recreation.
Astrotourism is not limited to Madhya Pradesh. At Araiya Hotels & Resorts, Amruda Nair, Founder and CEO, explains how the location itself can inspire stargazing experiences: “At Araiya Gir, the spot was selected organically. While taking drone shots of the property, we realised the terrace above the wellness pavilion was an ideal spot—you could see wild lions in the distance during the day and enjoy a clear, star-filled sky at night.” The trend is attracting international travellers as well. In January, a group from Germany and the UK will spend three nights in Tadoba and three in Pench, participating in an expanded astro experience that includes presentations and photography workshops led by experts from Mumbai and Pune.
Sangam Farms, a resort in Rajasthan’s Bhilwara, began stargazing sessions as an experiment, a small addition to its nature-focused offerings. But what started modestly soon evolved into its signature attraction. “From the moment this activity was introduced, it sparked wonder, curiosity, and awe,” shares Akshat Sharma, Resort Operations Manager. The sessions often extend late into the night, as guests trace constellations and planets through telescopes or simply lie back in silence under the cosmic sprawl. Sharma says, “It’s more than just an activity—it’s a soulful connection with the universe.” That sense of connection runs deeper than novelty. Sangam Farms now uses the StarSense Explorer, a digital telescope navigation system that blends cutting-edge precision with storytelling.
A Growing Market
Post-pandemic, astrotourism is becoming one of India’s fastest-growing travel niches. The appeal cuts across audiences. “Couples come for stargazing dates. Families come to learn together. Photographers come for the Milky Way,” Mathe says. “It’s not just for scientists anymore.” The trend hasn’t gone unnoticed by major travel companies. “We’re already in touch with big players like Kesari, Veena World, and Thomas Cook,” he says. “In the next few years, astrotourism could become a mainstream travel segment in India.”
When Stargazing India began in 1991, astronomy in India wasn’t leisure—it was learning. “At that time, astronomy was just a tool of education,” recalls Nishant Gor, founder of the country’s oldest astronomy club. “We wanted people to think scientifically—to understand nature, the universe, and our place in it.” In those early years, there was no internet, no accessible telescopes, and no culture of travelling to dark skies. The club started in Kutch, Gujarat, introducing astronomy to schools and local communities. Tourism wasn’t yet part of the picture.
That changed in 2006, when Gujarat hosted its first Rann Utsav. “We took our telescopes there,” says Gor. “We showed people Saturn’s rings and Jupiter’s moons.” Visitors lined up to look through the lens. “That,” he says, “was our first step toward astrotourism.” Over the next decade, astronomy in India evolved from education to infotainment—science mixed with storytelling—and, with smartphones, it became participatory. “Earlier, if you saw something strange in the sky, you wrote to an expert and waited weeks,” he says. “Now you post a photo, and someone identifies it instantly.”
He sees three kinds of people drawn to this movement. The first are professors and students. The second, “the Instagram generation,” come chasing beauty—a Milky Way photo—and ends up staying for the learning. “People in their 30s or 40s remember starry skies from their childhood villages,” he says. “For many young people today, a sky full of stars is just an imagination.” The third group—communicators like Gor—work to make astronomy accessible to all. Stargazing India now collaborates with tourism boards, including Madhya Pradesh Tourism, to train local guides and weave indigenous sky knowledge into modern programmes. “About a decade ago, astronomy activities were limited to enthusiasts,” says Ramashish Ray, founder of Starscapes, one of India’s leading astrotourism ventures. “Now, families, children, and young adults come seeking something offbeat—an experience that feels different from the usual vacation.” Starscapes’ Nakshatra Sabha—a collaboration with the Uttarakhand Tourism Board—drew 500 participants from India and abroad. The campaign’s success has spurred the government to train 500 astro-guides, and local homestays have seen revenues rise by 15-20 per cent. But dark sites are also vanishing fast. “In Bengaluru, the sky rates at Bortle 8 or 9—you see only the moon. In Coorg, a Bortle 3 or 4 night reveals thousands of stars,” he says. Efforts like Dark Sky Reserves aim to protect these vanishing nightscapes. “It’s not anti-development—it’s about balance,” says Ray.
Click and Capture
On moonless nights in Ladakh or Spiti, the sky becomes a vast, shimmering canvas—so clear that the Milky Way appears to spill across it in slow motion. For most city dwellers, it’s an unfamiliar sight. But for Himachal-based astrophotographer Sachin Chauhan, it’s a lifelong pursuit. “Spiti, Ladakh, and the Rann of Kutch offer India’s clearest skies,” Chauhan says. “You travel for hours, endure freezing nights—but the reward is unmatched,” he says. From the frozen deserts of Spiti to the humid haze of the Andamans, Chauhan has discovered that every place offers its own version of the night sky. “In Spiti, the air is thin and clear—you can spot even the Andromeda galaxy. In the Andamans, humidity softens the view, but the constellations shine just as bright.” He believes one doesn’t need to travel far to rediscover the stars. “Go 80 km outside a city, or trek for a day or two—the sky transforms,” he says.
India’s cosmic connection, he adds, runs deep—from Jantar Mantar’s ancient observatories to mythologies that map the heavens. And that bond is being renewed. “India is finally recognising the value of its night skies,” Chauhan says. Vijay Kapoor, founder of the Bengaluru and Delhi Astro Clubs, has witnessed the rise of this phenomenon firsthand. “Stargazing is the first spark,” he explains. Astrophotography, Kapoor adds, is an entirely different pursuit. While stargazing offers limited visibility—“no matter how large your telescope, you can only see faint details of a few objects,” he says—photography with even a short exposure can reveal a universe invisible to the naked eye. “With just 30 seconds or a minute, the camera shows structures and colours you wouldn’t otherwise see. It’s far more rewarding.” Kapoor has built a career around bridging these two worlds. His club organises public stargazing events outside city limits, where participants enjoy dark skies, meals, and overnight stays. Back in Bengaluru, the club has identified prime stargazing locations within a two-hour drive. Weekend events are carefully tailored for different audiences.
Despite the hurdles, the stars continue to draw people in. On rooftops, hilltops, and school grounds, Indians are once again turning their gaze upward—chasing comets, photographing nebulae, or simply watching Orion rise in winter. The cosmos has always been India’s oldest classroom, and now, it seems, the lesson has resumed—that to look up is to remember both how small we are, and how boundless our wonder can be.
