That was yesterday. Today I’m lying on a River Ganges’ sand bank playing with a black puppy. Puppy stops to chase a chartreuse butterfly and I watch a herder bring his goats, bells chiming, down to the river for a drink.

Six months ago, I was at home and trolling the internet for a way to connect with this inextricable maze of a country without being overwhelmed by it. I would be a woman traveling alone and this would be my first trip to India. I discovered Tiger Paw Adventures, an Indian-owned and run company that masterminds hard, soft and softer adventures. They helped me uncover mine, starting with a trip to their river camp in the foothills of the Himalayas north of the town of Rishikesh, a three hour train ride from Delhi.

"OK, Madame?" Sunder Singh shouts over the racket of our share-jeep as we swerve the curves high above the Ganges. Headed north from Rishikesh to Tiger Paw’s camp, two families, three guys and supplies squish around me in the open-sided jeep. Safe? Absolutely. Every time someone joins the squeeze, the driver jumps out with a wrench to tighten the bolts on the front tires.

Trading the jeep's shriek for the birds’ songs, we descended down steep switchbacks from the road. When the jungle turned to garden and the path to steps, an outcropping appeared. There, overlooking the Ganges, was the camp's headquarters and cooking tents.

Thirty last steps, carved into a cliff, dropped to a spit of beach on the Ganges’ banks. My camp was all set up: tent, picnic area, beach fire pit and a discretely-placed outhouse in its own mini-tent. I collapsed by the sea-green river. It flowed fast, cool and clean. A black puppy tumbled into my lap.

The Tiger Paw guys arrived with a salad of red carrots and white radishes, a mutton curry and just-ripped-off-the-fire chapattis. Puppy and I turned our attention to dinner. I retired alone—puppy had fleas—to my comfortable tent with its outside canvas canopy and chili-red and turmeric-yellow cotton interior.

Sunder Singh is the camp's headman and he reminded me of the river here—confident, lively and straightforward. During the days, we trekked in companionable silence along terraced fields, green with new garlic, radishes and rice. We met rock-laden donkeys, fodder-laden women and a naked Sadhu (holy man) out for a pee. Kids, in a two-room schoolhouse, worked on their slates or in garden patches. They (and Sunder Singh) giggled at my rendition of "Itsy Bitsy Spider" and then sang for us. Sunder Singh’s relatives invited us for tea where we heard about the bear attack.

I could have fished mahaseer in the Ganges, a sport fish prevalent along Tiger Paw’s catch-and-release river frontage. Shooting white water was another option—Tiger Paw helped introduce white water rafting to India. The pleasures of roaming, however, and the peace of the river won out.

Tiger Paw’s eco-conscious river camp is its latest effort to combine travel with an active concern for the environment and the culture and livelihood of the people in India’s rural areas. Tiger Paw’s director, Inder Jit Singh is called IJ for short. He’s is a dashing young Sikh with a traditional beard and natty turbans: pale peach to compliment his khakis and navy blazer; red with his knee-high boots and jodhpurs; and black—embroidered with gold polo ponies—for festivities. He spent much of his youth, with his military father—now Tiger Paw’s second dashing Sikh—in the north of India. There, they both developed a love of adventure, the out-of-doors and Indian’s many cultures.

"It’s all in the advice," IJ says of the travel biz. And his advice took me happily from the camps on the River Ganges to Himalayan spas and from Rajasthan palaces to tiger jungles. I moved from modest digs to luxury tents using transport that ranged from bicycle rickshaws to chauffeured cars—with never a twinge of Delhi belly.

Rajasthan, a desert state west of Delhi, held more adventures. I stayed in the city of Jaipur which was, it seemed, getting married. Besides the everyday camels, painted elephants, placid cows and pandemonium of mongrel vehicles, there were processions of merry men and grooms on white horses. Faux palace fronts of temporary wedding pavilions, often two stories high, billowed with acres of Indian cloth. Music, fireworks, laughter and silk-sari-draped women flowed from them. Many days in February and March, it turns out, are auspicious dates to marry. Jaipur was making the most of them.

For five days, I traversed Jaipur and its surroundings by car, by elephant and on foot. I roamed the walled city with its elaborately carved pink buildings, tarried in forts and palaces and ambled through observatories and gardens. And I shopped. Five months would not have been too long, but the Ranthambhore tigers beckoned.

…the jungle’s shadows were deepening when she first appeared. Stretching, she sharpened her claws on a tree. Turning, she walked our way. "They think we built these dirt roads for them," the guide said of the new routes through Ranthambhore National Park and Tiger Reserve. Hearts raced in our open-sided jeep. Not fear exactly, more like exhilaration with such power and elegance just two tiger-lengths away. Then, as if she were only the overture, her two cubs appeared.

I came to Ranthambhore to see the tigers. Staying at Vanyavilās was a treat all its own. Having no tiger treks planned, Tiger Paw urged this splurge. Spellbound by the tiger tales of the reserve's first caretaker, plied with chapattis and curries, rack of lamb and ravioli served round the fire and under the stars and perhaps enchanted by the breeze rippling through my tent's silk lining, I found Vanyavilās a rare treat.

So was India. She spans a subcontinent, has dozens of languages, religions, races and climates. In India, time immemorial butts against the cyber future and excruciating poverty against fabulous wealth. Chaos often rules. Some find a calm in its center. I found it more than fascinating.

With Tiger Paw paving the way, I eased into India and India seems to have eased into me.

Tiger Paw Adventure's web site.

Narain Niwas Place Hotel is one of India's Heritage Hotels web site.

Vanyavilās is a Oberoi hotel, here's the web site.