Sometimes

Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. 
~Anonymous

I read the quotation above and these words just came to me...

Sometimes... a few words define the very truth of that moment
Sometimes... a melody is the only friend in the world
Sometimes... a breeze is a hug from the past
Sometimes... a fragrance is all you have to hold onto
Sometimes... there's only you and a thought... what if...

Single-minded wanderlust

Puri was a spur of the moment decision. I was in Bhubaneshwar, Odisha (then called Orissa) for a workshop on the occasion of World Women's Day (8th March) to give a talk to young women attending from across the length and breadth of the State. It was organised by Dharitri, a local language newspaper. The hosts encouraged me to go see Puri and I thought to myself, why the hell not! Got accommodation in a hotel curiously called Z, and I needed no other incentive. Taxi booked, tickets changed, phone calls made and I was on my way. 

Bhubaneshwar is a beautiful new town, well planned with broad tree-lined avenues and parks. I got to see a fair bit, but the best part of the journey was when we were the countryside roads. The weather was pleasant and the late afternoon sun cast playful shadows. Beautifully ornate temples with bright colours and vibrant sculptures dotted the rustic landscape. On the way we stopped at Pipili to briefly look at the cloth lanterns and umbrellas which were bursting with colour and life! Made a note to someday go meet the artisans as well. 

The journey was soon over and we were in Puri in no time. Z Hotel was originally, 'Amulya Bhavan' the summer palace of the Raja of Serampore (in West Bengal). It is a beautiful property on Chakratirtha Road and easily found. After some initial confusion about whether a room was available, I checked in to a simple room sparsely furnished but with style. The room had a few antique pieces, a bed, an armoire, a dressing table and a chair by the window looking out on the ocean. Unfortunately, I had to share the bath but since I was going to be there for a short period, I was not too concerned. It turned out I shared the loo with two middle aged East European men, but except for bumping into one of them the next morning on the way to the shower, it was uneventful. 

Once I was settled in the room, I wondered... now what? This was my first holiday by myself and the notion that I could do anything that I wanted to was liberating... or was it?!? Stay in the room and read a book by the window... or take a walk down the beach... In the end I quickly changed and decided to make use of the little daylight time I had available. A walk by the beach was just what I needed to stretch my legs after the drive. The sand was soft, fairly dirty and so not ideal for walking, but for a Delhiite, just having access to the ocean was a delight. With the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and delighted children merged in the background, I found myself a quiet spot and settled down to watch the world go by. Other than day dreaming, I needed to plan my two point itinerary - Jagannath Temple and the Sun Temple at Konark. 

Later that evening, I went for darshan to the Jagannath Temple. Since I was knee high, I could remember that Jagannath Puri was never mentioned without an accompanying warning about the Pandas (priest and/or touts in temples). So it was with some trepidation that I went to the temple. No sooner had a I reached the temple street, when a panda came up and offered his services. He looked no better nor worse than any other, so I engaged him after sternly (I put up my best impression of being a dragon) asking how much he would charge. He said "50" and I jumped. Of course it turned out that 50 was a bit of an eyewash as I had to end up paying at several of the lesser shrines and holy peepal trees and anything else he could scare me with. About the only thing which seemed a little regulated was the process of buying the Prasad which is overseen by the Tourism Department of Government of Odisha. While the tour was relatively painless, I walked out with a significantly lighter wallet!

Spent the rest of the evening reading and listening to music in my room after a decent fish curry dinner at the hotel restaurant. Felt a bit out of place as I was the only 'native' in the restaurant (apparently the hotel deals mostly with foreign tourists), but no one bothered me and I buried my nose in a book. Went to bed early as I wanted to catch the sunrise. Woke up in time and saw the beautiful sunrise and took a long walk on the beach among the fishermen and their boats.

After an early breakfast, left for Konark. The day was a scorcher, but I didn't mind it. From my experience in Indian tourist destinations, especially in historical monuments, is that tour guides rarely know much about the historical background and rely more on legends and their own imagination to populate your experience. So I do not know what persuaded me otherwise, but I decided to get a guide for the tour. He was probably in his mid-forties, average build and height, and in every way seemed your average man on the street. So nothing prepared me for the extremely pornographic descriptions of the sculptures in the temple. Now I don't think I am a prude and I also realise that the sculptures are rather lascivious and graphic, but to be talked to like that by a stranger was one of the most uncomfortable experiences in my life. I quickly paid him off and finished the tour on my own, but my day had been ruined.

And with that I took my taxi back to Bhubaneshwar and boarded my afternoon flight back to Delhi. I still look back at my first solo holiday and wonder. All in all it was a good experience and it has not stopped me from going on other such short trips. But it's also not encouraged me to take a long break entirely on my own. The creepy tour guide aside, I did come to realize that I like the company of people and do not entirely enjoy holidays on my own. I am great fan of Alain de Botton, but have to disagree with him on these words of his: "It seemed an advantage to be traveling alone. Our responses to the world are crucially moulded by the company we keep, for we temper our curiosity to fit in with the expectations of others...Being closely observed by a companion can also inhibit our observation of others; then, too, we may become caught up in adjusting ourselves to the companion's questions and remarks, or feel the need to make ourselves seem more normal than is good for our curiosity.” I suppose I feel just too self conscious to enjoy myself or be curious about others.

The Slasher Movie in My Head and Other Stories

When: December 1999
Co-victims: Doorva, Rajan and Meenakshi 
The Journey: Delhi-Bhopal-Pipariya-Pachmarhi


A freezing overnight train to Bhopal. Breakfast and shower at Doorva's friend's place. A long long long... long bus journey on MP State Roadways bus to Pachmarhi sitting on our luggage... on roads (is it any better now?) which would put Moon craters to shame... ouch! And I wonder how I ended up with back trouble... huh. 


Bus driver decides on a dinner break at Pipariya... it's at 9 pm. Ever been a girl in the Indian hinterlands... in winter... at 9 pm... file that under 'what not to do'. The break is for an hour....  predicament... this means we can't expect to reach Pachmarhi before midnight.... if we're lucky... hmmm. None of us had ever been to Pachmarhi; don't know where the guest house is; can't reasonably expect public transportation at midnight in a small town...  Brain wave... let's get a taxi. First thought... can we afford it? Safety wins over wallet and Rajan finds us a broken down Maruti van whose windows refuse to shut.... brrrr.


The two hour journey begins. Pipariya is at the foothills and it's 2-3 hour journey through hills and jungles to get to Pachmarhi... with no lights except from passing traffic every 10 minutes or so. Teeth chattering we huddle under a shared shawl. Rajan sitting in the front passenger seat is not so lucky, poor chap. We tell jokes and stories to pass the time... lean towards ghost stories. The driver keeps praying throughout the journey... we wonder... what is he psyching himself up for? Slasher movies run through our heads. Vivid imagination turns into a film in our heads... kidnapped by psycho and perhaps his evil friends... no one worries about us for atleast 48 hours and won't know how to reach us (cell phones were available but still out of middle class budget)... are we doomed? Then the taxi driver stops in the jungle... literally in the middle of nowhere... to top up water in the carburetor... really!?! This is it... the end is near... all we can do is laugh... hysterically... I say I'm hungry... incredulous friends... more hysterical laughter... but seriously it was 10.30 pm and we hadn't eaten since breakfast! 


Our man comes back with water and the journey resumes. Heartbeats slow down and we heave a sigh of relief. We reach Panchmarhi and are stopped at the police chowki. The constables ask for car papers... voila... the praying was because the driver had none! Negotiation follows... Rajan joins the fray... points to three shivering hungry girls... the constables give in... tell the driver to drop us off and come back for his deliverance! Storm in a teacup for us! Guest house directions are sought and reached. Now the big question... will they have kept dinner for us? No, but thank heavens for Maggi! 


The rest of the holiday was lovely... walking, cycling, badminton, boating, hiking (i.e. me huffing and puffing behind the others), long chats. See the Pachmarhi link above for what to do there.

... unless you count minor disagreements about how to plan our time. Hmmm... perhaps I'll write about holiday stress next time.


P.S. For another perspective on the region, look up Surajit Sarkar's Ring of Blue project.