Pre-vacation

Most of our vacations follow a predictable pattern and style, from the planning to the actual vacationing. The preparation phase of a vacation is exciting. It takes considerable creativity to imagine everything that might go wrong while travelling [snowfall in summer, food poisoning, sudden craving for theplas in Heidelberg] before deciding what to stuff in your suitcases. The day of departure is the most hectic: emptying the fridge, stuffing door-gaps with newspapers to keep the dust out of the house, making frantic calls to newspaper and milk delivery guys, triple checking if all the doors and windows are locked before rushing off to the airport or train station. When you are roughly halfway to your destination, you are suddenly seized with the nagging feeling that you might have forgotten to turn the gas cylinder off. You spend the remaining journey imagining a charred house that will greet you when you are back and a life thereafter spent in penury.

Nonetheless, in my experience, a vacation has four stages: when, where, I can’t believe I’m finally here, and phew! It’s good to be home.

Most of our vacations follow a predictable pattern and style, from the planning to the actual vacationing

When

Deciding when to take a break is governed by a lot of factors. If you have school and college-going kids who are still not embarrassed to be seen with their parents, you plan your getaway to coincide with their holidays. Nowadays, however, most children spend their vacations in coaching classes and other activities that are supposed to turn them into super-achieving clones. Regardless, family vacations do happen, and planning them can be a nightmarish experience.

Contrarily, if you are unattached, so to speak, planning when to take a trip is a relatively personal decision. You simply wait for the symptoms to show up. These include restlessness, driving your colleagues insane with ‘I-could-so-do-with-a-break’ whining, and extreme envy at your just-returned-from-Leh friend’s travel photos on Facebook.

Where

This is usually dictated by three things: ‘must-visit places’ listicles that you browse while pretending to work, vacation pictures shared on Facebook or Instagram by “friends” you’ve never met, and a long, hard look at your bank balance and all your outstanding bills. Gone are those days when people could throw darts on the world atlas to decide their next holiday destination. The passionately patriotic Indian these days keenly follows prime ministerial itineraries to draw inspiration for new destinations.

A vacation has four stages: when, where, I can’t believe I’m finally here, and phew! It’s good to be home.

I can’t believe I’m finally here

So you’ve finally arrived at your dream destination. You congratulate yourself on booking the ‘romantique suite’ at the so-called heritage hotel after weeks of sifting through listings on travel websites and burning midnight oil extracting the essence from conflicting reviews. And it turns out to be a matchbox in a rundown building with a sewer-side view [your room with a view]. Not the type to waste time on heartbreaks, a DSLR camera slung around your neck, you set out immediately clutching maps and lists of must-dos [usually in multiples of 10] that you downloaded from someone’s blog.

You risk being disowned by the Worldwide Association of Hyper Tourists till you record the most ‘out-of-the-world’ experiences in a day and get herded around like cattle in tour buses. When you get time from watching the sunrise from the top of a volcano and the sunset from behind shrubs filled with rare snakes, you pose and preen in front of monuments, fountains and the Armani store, hoping one of them turns out to be a superb profile picture that fetches you hundreds of likes on Facebook.

It’s not a vacation well-spent till you exclaim “Oh god! I’ve put on so much weight” every few hours. It’s not fun till you feel guilty of having too much fun. Within a few days of hectic vacationing and plying yourself with meals so exotic that you can’t even pronounce their names, you start craving ghar ka khaana and the comfort of your own bed.

It’s not a vacation well-spent till you exclaim “Oh god! I’ve put on so much weight” every few hours

Phew! It’s good to be home

Vacations may be cruel reminders of how boring our regular life is. But when you finally walk into your living room—nursing bunions, lower back pain and a tan that makes you look like a roasted aubergine—you inhale the stale air and exclaim, “It’s so good to be home!” That’s the cruel irony of our lives: we long to escape our mundane lives and when we finally do, we start missing our boring yet comforting routine.

Then you commit the biggest mistake of weighing yourself. After you’ve managed to scream the daylights out of your neighbours and the pigeons on your balcony, you Google “how to lose weight in 10 days” and put yourself on a punishing diet. Within days of washing kilos of unwashed laundry, restoring the house back to its shining glory, eating 20 grams of carrots and 6 raisins for all your meals, going through zillions of unread spam and emails, and putting extra hours at the office to finish all your pending work, your vacation euphoria becomes a distant memory.

You are completely drained. You flop on your chair and exclaim, “Damn, I am so tired, I could certainly do with a vacation!” And the cycle begins all over again.

A version of this was first published in the December 2015 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Wayanad

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I was passing through the Muthanga Wildlife Sanctuary in Bandipur, Karnataka. A lone pachyderm stood by the road, swaying his tusk and grazing the grass. I stopped the car and gazed at him. I remembered someone telling me an elephant who roamed all alone was considered dangerous. I wondered if this one would go rampant but soon spotted his fellow herd-mates behind the tall bushes. They looked majestic and intimidating as a group.

Although I could have stood there and admired them all day, I had to bid adieu to these beasts; I was on my way to the land of tea, coffee, rubber and spices—Wayanad, Kerala.

Ancient caves and misty waterfalls awaited me

Wayanad lies perched on the fertile hills of the Western Ghats, covered in dense foliage. As I drove into the district, the road snaked and curved through the verdant hills that are peppered with ponds and lakes.

My first destination was the Edakkal caves. Located in a remote area in the district, these caves lay surrounded by sprawling coffee plantations. To get there, I had to make my way through the town of Sulthan Bathery, its name a corrupted form of Sultan’s Battery. The great ruler Tipu Sultan had stored his ammunition and artillery in an old Jain temple here. The beautiful temple still stands strong after all these years.

The security personnel tagged the plastic items I had in my bag to make sure I brought them with me on my return

Onward I went, making my way to the Ambukuthimala Mountain, atop which lie the caves. It’s a 4000-foot hike and I managed to trudge my way to the top. Climbing around 300 steep steps for an hour left me huffing and puffing in the warm weather. At the entrance to the caves, I was surprised and glad that the security personnel tagged the plastic items I had in my bag to make sure I brought them with me on my return.

The name “Edakkal” means “a stone in between” and is a reference to the giant boulder that apparently wedged itself between two huge rocks to form these pseudo caves. Although they were discovered by a British officer in 1895, these caves are home to etchings and pictorial writings that are around 7000 years old. As I looked at these pictures of pre-historic humans, animals and customs, I couldn’t help but ponder over how life must have been like in those times.

After the caves, I next wanted to explore the Soojipara or Soochipara waterfall. I drove to the village of Meppady and then made my way to the waterfall. The scenic cascade’s name means “needle-like [sooji] rock [para]” and refers to the thin, spiky rocks that lie at its base. To get to the waterfall, I had to trek downhill on a stony path; then finally I saw the torrent pouring like a dream, with its mist spraying in all directions. I was drenched and refreshed basking in the fresh mountain air and water. My first day at Wayanad had tired me but it had also tickled the explorer in me.

There were fresh green tea gardens on hilly slopes and long pepper vines were draped around the majestic silver oaks

Spice central

A search for a place to put my feet up took me to the picturesque village of Vythiri. I could hear the azaan, the Islamic call to worship, being played in the nearby mosque. As I took in the beauty of the village, I noticed that the landscape had changed. There were fresh green tea gardens on hilly slopes and long pepper vines were draped around the majestic silver oaks. Every tea plantation was an abode of spices.

As I entered the grounds of Pranavam homestay, I noticed the grass growing under my feet was actually a wild variant of coriander and it had the same strong fragrance. My eyes scanned the yard and found turmeric and ginger shrubs crowded together by the fence and green chillies hung on tender twigs. A walk around the village, after resting for a bit, was a treat for my senses. Cloves, bay leaves and cardamom were found in copious numbers throughout the village.

Among the many natural beauties I saw were several kinds of birds, like hornbills, bulbuls and kingfisher

The next morning I woke up early so that I could take in the dew-laden sights of the area. Walking through the paddy fields and betel nut groves, inhaling the fresh morning air, to view the first daylight are experiences that shouldn’t be missed when in Wayanad. Among the many natural beauties I saw were several kinds of birds, like hornbills, bulbuls and kingfishers.

Back at the homestay, a scrumptious breakfast was prepared for me. I dug into the spread of hot idiyappams, boiled nenthra pazham or banana halwa and finished it off with steamed rice cylinders called puttu. The authentic Kerala breakfast packed me with energy for the adventures that awaited me.

Tribes of Wayanad

It is estimated that 17 different tribes inhabit the region of Wayanad, with Kuruchiya considered the highest caste. My first stop was in the village of Thrikkaipetta where I discovered an NGO called URAVU, which helps the local tribal community by providing them with sustainable work. They teach the locals how to make various environment-friendly products from bamboo—bags, furniture, handicrafts, utensils and curtains. This has not only helped the tribal people find a stable livelihood, but it has also encouraged sustainable practices.

Next, I moved on to the village of Ambalavayal. One of the sights that first caught my eye was the betel nuts that were laid out to dry in the various courtyards. I was there to visit the house of a Paniya tribesman, Vellan Moopan. As I stepped into his home, I could hear the low pitch of a musical instrument. Upon moving in further, I saw him scrapping the thudi, a local percussion instrument. Made of sheep skin, jackfruit wood, bamboo and latex, the thudi is played at the tribe’s funerals and marriages. It normally takes 20 days to make one thudi. Sadly, Vellan is one of the few artisans left in Wayanad who are working hard to save this traditional art form.

The people of Wayanad haven’t forgotten their roots even though the bustle of modern life surrounds them

For lunch, I had brown rice with fish fry and curry, with a side of boiled tapioca and red chillies chutney. Fish is found in abundance in Wayanad and is part of almost every meal.

It was time for me to move ahead and visit Govindan from the Kuruma tribe. One look at his belongings, which were bows and arrows of various shapes and sizes, was enough to tell me that archery was in his blood. A keen instructor, he tried to teach me the ancient art. After many failed attempts I gave up and was content to sit and eat the canistel that he offered me. Canistel is also called eggfruit because of its flesh, which tastes just like a boiled egg’s yolk.

A model for the rest of us

In those few days in Wayanad I noticed the people of this land had learnt to live in harmony with nature. By adopting sustainable practices and preserving traditional art forms, the inhabitants had learnt to live a simple yet contented life. They haven’t forgotten their roots even though the bustle of modern life surrounds them. I was puzzled as to what motivated them to live like this. A native gave me the answer: “These are our jewels and we better protect them before they are lost”.

This was first published in the September 2015 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Passport processing can take up to six weeks or even more. So as soon as you start planning for your trip, you need to check the validity of your passport. Apply immediately if you don’t have it yet. If you already have yours, make sure that it hasn’t expired or nearing expiry. Remember, some individual countries require that you have at least six months on your passport before expiry to be allowed to enter. Also, if you have one of those older handwritten passports, get it reissued as soon as you can, because many countries do not consider those valid anymore.

2. Not making copies of your documentation

Keep a paper copy of your passport, visa and airline tickets in a travel folder, should you lose these essential documents. While many people photograph them and have it on their phones, this can be problematic if your phone is stolen, and the rate of theft of phones left idly on a coffee shop table is high. As a back up, always email yourself scanned copies of these essential documents, or save them on a cloud, so that you can access them anytime from anywhere.

3. Not figuring out airport transfers

Have you given yourself sufficient time between interconnecting flights? Some airports are huge and require a great deal of time to traverse between terminals.

4. Not knowing how to get from the airport to where you are going

What time are you arriving? What airport transfers are available? Do they run all day and all night? Certain airports stop their transfer services between certain dark hours of the night. Many people do not have a game plan to travel from the airport to their hotel, resort or place of stay. This needs to be pre-organised in many cases.

5. Not booking a place to stay—at least for the first night

This is a peace-of-mind decision. Knowing where you will stay on the first night gives a little breathing space and secures a safety net for you. There is nothing worse than standing in the middle of the airport, trying to decide where you will spend the night. This is could be an expensive mistake, especially since you are likely to be too tired to think straight and will go with the first option available to lay your weary head. Inevitably it will cost you an arm and a leg and probably be located in the remotest area.

6. Not factoring in the different time zones when booking your trip

This is one where we have been caught, with daylight savings hours kicking in and out at various times of the year. Check in advance to avoid arriving at your destination at an odd hour. If you have made transport arrangements you may find that these don’t go entirely according to your plans.

7. Not using RFID protectors

This is a prevalent crime where thieves electronically scan your credit card details and empty your account of all of your travel funds. Information can and is stolen electronically by Radio Frequency Identification and an RFID protected wallet made of particular blocking material gives you some peace of mind, though it is not entirely foolproof. We have been using one from Amazon as it came with excellent ratings by other customers. We have had no problem thankfully.

8. Not calling your credit card company

Have you informed your credit card company and bank that they will see transactions being made from the backwaters of wherever? The banks and credit cards companies might block your card, if they see unusual activity. This is done to safeguard you, should someone use RFID to steal your money; but it is bad if it is you standing in the middle of Chian Mai hoping to get some money for your Thai lunch. Inform your bank about your travel plans so they know that it is more than likely a hungry you. Ditto, if you have been robbed—ring them immediately and have your card cancelled. Most will have a back-up plan to get you your lunch and lodgings, so check that this is included.

9. Not checking your phone plan

This one could cost you the family castle. Ring your phone company and find out about international phone charges, and how much data usage will cost. Then check whether it is better to buy a local SIM card for the duration of your trip. Don’t forget there are other and sometimes cheaper ways of keeping in contact, like Skype and Viber and even a postcard.

10. Failing to research local transportation

Ignoring local transport is a significant problem as the price variations can be enormous. The last thing you want is to be wasting your travel time in figuring out the best and most affordable option to get around. Pre-plan or at least talk to local people who know what works best. Also be aware that train and bus stations are often known by different names locally compared to the official moniker.

11. Not buying health insurance

We all believe that we are infallible and that nothing will happen to us—that health insurance is money in their pockets and not your travel account. We hate to tell you but sometimes things do go amiss and you do not want to be paying out a huge amount in medical coverage or even worse, medical evacuation.

12. Not setting a budget

You need and must set a budget and then add 10 per cent on top of that because not everything will go according to plan, and unexpected costs inevitably crop up. Better still, make it 20 per cent of your allocated budget and then if you are doing well, treat yourself to something fancy—or start planning the next trip.

13. Keeping all your money in one place

This is a big consideration. Money belts can work for some people, but try not to make it obvious that you are wearing a money belt.

1. It says loud and clear—here is all of my money and probably my passport, just thought I’d help you out by making it as obvious as I possibly could, and
2. It makes you look terrible.

Being a woman, I keep my money in my bra though a Venezuelan friend has told me that this is the first place that Venezuelans will go for. How they do that, I have not ascertained. You could also keep money secure in a zippered front pocket or in a thief proof packet or bag, but advertising it is dumb.

14.  Using a currency exchange or money changers

If you change money on the streets, be prepared for inflated exchange rates from some less-than-scrupulous operators. You could change at your hotel, which is marginally better and a lot safer, or use an ATM taking all precautions to be aware of your surroundings and careful with your pin number. Also, when pocketing the money you have withdrawn be discreet. You will need to pay a small transaction fee to your credit card company or the bank, but it is safer by a long shot.

15.  Over packing

Yes, we are all guilty of this but we are advocating the approach of fashion icon Coco Chanel who said, “Before leaving the house, a lady should look in the mirror and remove one accessory.” In case of packing, we suggest you remove more than one accessory and more than one of everything. Seriously, pare down on what you think you need. Remember—you can wash on the road, you can replace on the road. Leave the kitchen sink at home. It is not a competition to look the most stunning; it is about travelling practical so that it allows you to walk a lot and explore your new destination.

16. Not being aware of local customs

A little research on your destination will help you to understand some of the do’s and the don’ts in various countries that you visit. These are important to the local people. As guests, it is a sign of respect to the country you visit that you try and adhere to these. Some countries require a more moderate dress code than Westerners on holidays are used to. Adapt. The sarong can be your greatest asset for covering a bare head and arms. Know where public displays of affection are frowned on and in many countries, so is patting the head of a child or pointing.

17. Not being aware of public holidays or weekly offs

Not a biggie, but public holidays in some places, particularly smaller towns, can render you incapable of eating or catching public transportation. Or, imagine reserving a day for shopping and discovering that it’s a weekly off for the markets.

18. Trying to see and do too much

So many people plan to see too much, just to prove that they have been somewhere. It doesn’t matter if you do not see everything that is iconic. Take your time and get a travel balance going just as you strive for a work-life balance. Have that afternoon nap or get your feet massaged. Give yourself some down time to regroup and also to savour what you have seen and done.

Many people are not honest about their interests, likes, and dislikes. Have an honest talk with yourself about what you actually want to see, and let serendipity have a free ride. See what comes your way, especially things that you were not expecting and had not planned on. These things make travel special and memorable.

This was first published in the March 2016 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Homestay in Kutch

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“Do you have food for your journey? What do you mean you’ll buy something on the way? Here, at least take these parathas. Travel safe and let me know once you’ve reached, okay? Come again.”

This is how I almost always part ways with my homestay hosts.

Travel is as much about visiting new places as it is about experiencing cultures. The former is the easier part of the equation: you contact a travel agent, they fix your itinerary and you whiz in and out of the place [or places] you had in mind. You get what you pay for. Well, almost. Because in many ways, it does not lend itself to skimming beyond the surface.

For those among us who have had the privilege of spending our vacations at our native hometown, we can reminisce the experiences they brought; be it climbing a mango tree or setting up a makeshift hammock beneath it to laze and read, or swimming in the river and spotting life-forms we may only have read about in our school textbooks, or even just eating the yummiest meals off the chulha! Everything was organic by default—at no extra cost! Summer holidays were about rekindling relationships with family who lived in another part of the country [or may be globe, even] and parting ways was not always easy.

One cannot travel to one’s native hometown all the time, just as one cannot have a family in every part of the country or globe. There may be exceptions, but not each one of us is so fortunate. That is when you are grateful for homestays. You can choose to have family anywhere you want and experience a new place as though you were dropping in at your relatives’.

Where does one begin to find a homestay? Is it safe? How do you know?

It is a lot easier today to scout for properties on the internet. One can begin based on the destination one is interested in exploring or, like me, look up properties that seem interesting and accordingly select the place.

Many homestay hosts maintain an online presence via a website, a Facebook page, a Twitter handle or a listing on TripAdvisor. Additionally, there are websites like AirBnB, Homestay.com, SaffronStays.com among others that you may use. This ensures that you not only know what the property looks like and how near or far it is from the airport/railway station/market place, but also read reviews by previous guests.

Note: There is a merit in knowing why someone might have rated a property as poor. Was the quality of service delivered not as promised? Or was it that a certain service could not be delivered because of some external constraints?

Take, for instance, places that face regular water cuts and electricity outages. These are external constraints and a homestay host can only do so much for you to ensure you live in what is otherwise considered a luxury—that you can avail a hot water bath [if, at all]!

This is why it is prudent to engage your host ahead of time over emails or a telephone call while planning your stay. It ensures there are no surprises once you get there.

What should you look out for?

Deciding on a homestay could seem a little daunting, especially for first-timers. These are a few things could check for after you have identified a property of your choice.

Not all properties have the host and his/her family living on its premises. Sometimes, hosts sublet their property under the watchful eyes of a caretaker and support staff that cook, clean and maintain the premises. This is great for those travellers who would like to experiment with homestays but are not sure if they would be comfortable with having the owners around!

What you pay for is what you get. The mistake you might make is to think that just because it is not a hotel, everything would be flexible. On the contrary, because it is not a hotel, things are not always as flexible. For instance, you might be required to give your host a heads-up if you have decided to sit-in and have a meal [as opposed to going to a local restaurant] so arrangements can be made. Hosts have to separately make arrangements for their guests. Most hosts will not serve the same food they would eat or hand over the linen they personally use to their guests. I’ve observed that even hosts in remote villages of Spiti and Ladakh maintain a separate ration to prepare food for guests. They do not serve us the same food they consume–unless you let them know you are keen on trying the local cuisine.

Some hosts may have more rules than others and rightfully so—it is their home after all. So whether it is the availability and consumption of non-vegetarian food and alcohol, openness towards smoking, consent to bring pets or a preferred time by which you may be required to arrive back on the property at night for safety reasons, it’s good to have these clarified at the outset

In my experience, hosts have been open to the idea of not just encouraging feedback but also making amends in order to create a more welcoming environment.

How to engage with your host?

With all the emphasis on communicating and engaging with the host, here are a few pointers:

• Speak to your hosts about the property and the available facilities be it meals or things you could do close to the property [like learning pottery or going trekking]. It may influence you to prolong your stay. Tell them a bit about yourself and learn a few things about them—a little familiarity always help.
• Enquire about sites you could see and places you could go to. Not everything gets covered in the guidebook. For someone who barely refers to guidebooks, having my host in Kutch outline my itinerary was the next best thing.
• Your host is your best go-to person to understand the right way to travel locally. Many have connected me with reliable rickshaw drivers or local travel operators ensuring that I do not get ripped off.
• Enhance your knowledge about the locally grown food, the culture and festivals of the places you are visiting by speaking
  to your host. This is how travel has made me wiser.

Who can opt-in for homestays?

There are no rules for who can opt for a homestay. You could be a solo traveller or be travelling with friends or family—it really does not change your reason for choosing a homestay. I have ticked every one of those check-boxes while choosing a homestay as my favoured style of accommodation.

Having said that, while anyone can and should experience homestays, the exception would be of someone who is extremely picky. Surely a homestay host will leave no stone unturned in extending not just their hospitality but even their home to you during your stay. But choosing homestays does not have to come at a barter price of you relinquishing your comforts. Just being candid and having an open dialogue with your host, ahead of your travel as well as during it, can ensure you both have an enjoyable experience.

The thumb rule of responsible travel is that you don’t do elsewhere what you won’t do in your hometown and it applies to homestays too. It is your home as well, albeit for a few days.

The post For your next vacation, skips hotels; try homestays instead appeared first on Complete Wellbeing.

Jim Corbett National Park

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It’s 5.30am as we bounce on the back of an open jeep on our way to the Jim Corbett National park. We’re irritable. Not just because we’re up before dawn to see a wild cat who we were sure would not extend the same courtesy to us, but also because at every bump on the road we are forced to hold on to the ice-cold bars of the jeep. I fear that my hands will freeze in place and wonder what will happen to my holiday then.

There is a theory that hospitality, particularly around wilderness, is much warmer to make up for the callousness of nature. At the Mahindra Club property on the fringes of the Jim Corbett National Park, we are cosseted like favoured grandchildren who are on their annual holidays. Outside, India’s first forest reserve does not grant us such considerations. On one side of the Kosi river is a low forest of wild kadipatta, lantana camara bushes, elephant grass, and teak wood, which we explore while sitting atop the 35-year-old Phoolmala—an elephant. It is late afternoon and Phoolmala gently sways through the forest. It’s not the best job for an elephant who would otherwise live in a matriarchal herd. On a regular day, she walks 15 to 18 hours; but it’s as good as it gets for an elephant in captivity. She gets to roam the forest, albeit under supervision. You can see that her favourite part is crossing the river.

In the thick of it

The water is clear enough to see the stripped pebbles on the river bed. Phoolmala and Rani, another elephant, stop to spray water on each other while passing and later make another halt to chomp the red berries in a bush. In the shade of low trees, we spot sambhal deers sitting—trying to escape the heat of the mid-morning sun. Peacocks also strut low, in no mood to show off their plumage to us.

It’s the same thing on the morning safari as jeeps line up to spot a tiger. Nature does not put up a display on call. The animal world does as it pleases—after all, it is we who are here to see and experience it and not the other way around. We chase monkey calls for a good two hours in a rope of open jeeps snaking around the forest. These tree dwellers are the first indicators that the cat is in the area—first a twittering to warn of the predator’s approach and then a deathly silence so it doesn’t know you are here. In the security of the big cat’s absence, herds of spotted deer brunch leisurely. An experienced one, clearly a millennial judging from its comfort level with the camera, turns and holds its good side for us. Termite hills provide landmarks. They are large enough to give credence to myth about rishis who meditate so long and deep that termites and ants build homes around them.

Still waiting

But the tiger remains elusive. There’s still dew on the grass and mist in the air. “He won’t come to the grassland until it is warm,” says our guide Subham Ratnagar. “Tigers don’t like the dampness of the dew.” He should know. His name is up on the board at the camp office to commemorate the latest tiger sighting. He’s from a nearby village Rampur and, like him, nearly everyone else in the surrounding towns make their livelihoods in Corbett. It’s a smart move to curb poaching. Anyone harbouring the intention to hunt big game would need a villager’s assistance.

Ratnakar has taken us around the circuit thrice. It’s about time we get out. The national reserve is open for sighting in two batches—dawn and dusk. There has been no sighting in our batch. The mood is one of disappointment, slowly giving away to a tendency to humour our situation. Jeeps pass each other with a monosyllabic exchange of “Dikha [Spotted]?” One mischievous retiree says enthusiastically, “Hahn! Uss ped ke neeche” [Yes! Under that tree].

Spotted at last

On our insistence, Subham takes us in for another circuit. Disappointment hangs like mist over the bunch in our jeep. No one expects to see a tiger so late in the day and we’re already talking, half-heartedly, about coming for the evening safari. “Tiger!” one of us cries and even as our mind is telling us he’s kidding, we see the tip of a tail swish on the road in front of us as a tigress leaps from the road into a hillock on the side of the road.

Ratnagar quickly takes us to the adjoining plane, and there she descends to walk through the dry grass. Her belly hanging low hinting to suckling cubs. She knows we’re around, but we aren’t interesting. She looks, she sniffs the air and dwindles along lazily, not yet imposed upon our presence. But there is a hint that we better not overstay our welcome; or get too curious. She won’t go near her babies while we are around; she won’t risk leading us too them. We turn around after following her for five minutes when she disappears into a thicket.

Analysed and discussed

I want to say it was majestic, even a life changing experience but it wasn’t. Something is diluted when you are a group catalyst to an experience and not a lone, silent, unspotted observer. There are too many discussions and debates later—everyone relates their version of how they spotted her. The story is broken down to too many details with too much retelling. Everyone practises aloud their version of spotting her. Credit is annexed for the creating the circumstances that led to the spotting—“I was the lucky mascot’; “I had a feeling we should turn around”; “We don’t like disappointing patrons, so when you said we should turn around I agreed even though it was after the prescribed tour.”

The tigress went on with her life, but we figuratively hoisted her like a trophy in our minds. We didn’t observe her quietly or think about what she thought of us. We didn’t wonder where she was going or what her plan for the day would be. Was she in the savannah for a hunt or a snooze? Where would the cubs be? What is her daily radius? A tiger we had come to see and we crossed that off our list.

Life in the hamlets

In between the warm embrace of professional hospitality and the callousness of the forest, lives the real life of the villages of the Pahad. Electricity lines run from Rampur, the nearest town, to the hotels and resorts that line the forest reserve, completely bypassing villages that have been rehabilitated along the stretch from areas prone to natural calamities. Some of these, like the hamlet Ringora, a village of 35 families, has been standing here for 40 years. Unrecognised as an official village by the government, the villages cannot have pukka [permanent] houses, electricity or running water. Corporates help them build schools and run home-businesses such as honey collection and knitting wares. Some of them are developing homestays for sustanence, besides providing tours of their fields and homes to showcase village life. The village is protected by an electrified gate that keeps out predators, an important move because the lantana bushes on the outskirts of the village are great hiding places for big cats. The roots of the bush keep the land dry and big cats don’t like to get their feet wet. Deep Malkani, a resident of the village and a guide, explains all this to us.

The land behind the village slopes up into a cliff that overlooks the Kosi river. A [reportedly] 315-year-old temple sits nestled in a 300-year-old banyan tree here. Youth such as Malkani conduct low-intensity zip-lining between the trees behind his village. There’s more such low-impact adventure if you go looking for it at the Jhula bridge over the Kosi river. You can rappel or slither down it to the clear water below.

None of us had the inclination to try any of these because we visited in November. Not for us the cold embrace of a freezing river or the bruises of a rappel line when we could be in our warm beds, practising retelling our story of how we saw a tigress.

This was first published in the June 2015 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Pangi Valley

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A few months ago I woke up feeling melancholic about how my travels had started to become sterile and boring. Yes, I enjoyed them since they took me to exotic places but they were becoming predictable. It was becoming the same set routine: take a flight, check into a hotel, go explore the town, go to a fancy restaurant… each trip began to feel like the one before it. I knew that I would travel and stay in comfort, that the food would be fantastic, that there might be some odd curiosities in the town, but nothing more, nothing to astound me.

I found myself suddenly longing for that delicious uncertainty that would always accompany me when I first started travelling.

A plan is hatched

As a travel writer who thrived on excitement, I knew I had to take immediate action to get out of my doldrums. And so my friends and I hatched a plan to go on a road trip to Pangi Valley. This narrow valley within the Pir Panjal range in Himachal Pradesh is little known and is a short-cut from Chamba to Manali. The valley has  two high passes, one of them is the popular Rohtang Pass and the other is the spectacular Sach Pass.

A sunny September Saturday saw three of my friends and me at Teddy’s Lodge in Dalhousie tucking into breakfast served by none other than the owner of the lodge. Teddy Singh is ‘the’ grand old man of Dalhousie and he’s spent much of his youth leading trekking parties into Lahaul and Spiti. Today, even as he stands on the threshold of becoming an octogenarian, his spirit is as unflagging as triple distilled rum.

Fuelling up for the trip

A believer in bountiful breakfasts rather than debilitating diets, he had laid out a spread of porridge, fried eggs, toast with a thick layer of butter slapped onto it and rich apple pie. Knowing that this was probably going to be our last hearty meal till we get to Manali five days later, we ate with gusto.

With our bellies full, we loaded our vehicle and headed off towards Chamba via Khajjiar. A few kilometres into the drive, my buddy Kartik’s sudden yell put a halt on our sojourn. A big fat bumblebee had just stung him on the back of his head and within seconds the pain was radiating down his neck and shoulders. But an SOS call to Teddy Baba yielded a local treatment.

“Bloody hell” he boomed over the phone, “Why was he mucking around with the bee? Just find some marijuana leaves, crush them and apply the juice.”

Getting and applying the remedy was easy because cannabis grows wild in most Himachal districts. Soon Kartik was well again, though a little glassy eyed and vague.

That night we stopped at the Public Works Department [PWD] guest house at Bairagarh, a small town just before the ascent to the 14,500 feet Sach Pass begins. The watchman at the guest house offered to fetch groceries for our dinner, provided we cooked the meal ourselves. With three out of the four of us being ‘hobby chefs’ that was not a daunting task. So we took up his offer and 30 minutes later we had steaming green Thai curry and rice ready on the dinner table.

Refreshingly slow

The next morning we geared up for the climb to the spectacular Sach Pass—a highlight of our trip. At its almost stratospheric height, this pass has huge permanent glaciers that are the size of city blocks. After Bairagarh, all semblance of tarmac disappears. This meant that we would have to drive very slowly—at an average speed of about 14kph.

In the last few months, I had zoomed down country roads in the Czech Republic, driven on the German autobahns at ridiculous speeds and seen the countryside go by in a blur as I sat in a swift and silent Swiss train. The result of which is that I remembered the insides of the cars and trains very well, but not so much the landscapes. This experience of travelling slowly was refreshingly different. I appreciated the shapes of the clouds swooping across the magnificent mountains, spotted Himalayan hares scurrying out of their burrows and gazed with wonder at a Himalayan Black Eagle happily flying around. We continued our journey and, after a while, I stepped out of the car to breathe in the crisp cold air. While I took in the clean air, I tried to brush away the dust from my jacket and realised with wonder that it was a snowflake. I regaled in nature’s quiet beauty.

The Sach Pass is the gateway to the Pangi Valley, which is a verdant and narrow valley in the Udaipur district. The Chandrabhaga River that flows through this valley is, unlike most of Himachal’s rivers, unfettered. The pale blue river gurgles with glee as it flows over the boulders.

It took us an entire day’s drive to cover the 65 kms from Bairagarh to Killar, which is the first town after the pass and also has a scenic PWD guest house. Unfortunately, this guest house had been fully booked by the entourage of a visiting government official. So we backtracked to a fork and took the prong going towards Kashmir via Kishtwar. 10 kms down this road is a little village called Dharwas where again we were told that the guest house is full. Fortunately, the chowkidar was a kind-hearted man who let us pitch our tents on the manicured lawn of the bungalow.

When I laid my thin sleeping bag out in the open, I anticipated an uncomfortable night. But even though the temperatures fell to about 3°C that night, I had a comfortable night’s sleep.

Transcending material pleasures

The next morning over tea, the chowkidar casually mentioned to us that there was an incredibly narrow and scary road across a cliff, about 15 kms ahead from where we were. Even before he could finish his sentence, the four of us got into the car to explore this road. As we crossed into the state of Jammu and Kashmir, the apprehension on the face of the border guard was obvious. He didn’t seem too keen on the idea of city dwellers wanting to drive on that road. His fears were not unfounded; I have to confess I had never driven on a scarier road. It is narrow with sheer drops and a forbidding overhang. It feels as if the rock-face has grudgingly yielded a barely drivable path. This beautiful road, with the river on one side and the silvery green trees on the other, with its 1000 foot vertical drop and huge mountains made me feel insignificant yet incredibly alive. The view was so exquisite that we decide to brew some masala chai right there. As we sipped our tea, we also drank in the serenity of the place.

We then had to drive 12 kms further down that road to find a place where we had enough of space to turn the car around.

On our last night, we camped at the beautiful Miyan Valley that is an offshoot of the Pangi Valley. Kartik made some delicious biryani for us at our campsite by the Miyan River. Even though he cooked it on a portable propane stove and used a large amount of guesswork to measure the ingredients, it was as sumptuous as something you’d get at a five-star kitchen.

My trip to Pangi Valley taught me lessons about how I could live my life in the city. For the locals there, a landslide is just a minor inconvenience. They don’t fret or fume but patiently wait as the road is being cleared. Getting no electricity for days is not a problem, nor is the delay in getting a gas cylinder. Life in Pangi Valley goes on beautifully without the material comforts we have, and it is in fact richer and not short-changed. Today, as I sit in the sweltering heat of Mumbai and reminisce about my trip, I invariably go back to that moment sitting by the rushing river, eating that delicious biryani by the light of fireflies buzzing about camp. Bliss indeed!

This was first published in the November 2014 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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“What will happen to work when I am gone? How will it go on?” We tend to build these questions towards disastrous consequences and convince ourselves that we are indispensable. We find contentment in remaining ‘switched on’ 24×7 but see catastrophe in even daring to think about switching off for a few days. Over the years, I have learnt that no one is indispensable, and guess what? If that weren’t the truth, then one would be as afraid of taking a vacation as one would be of dying. Given a fair chance, one will find equal talent and dedication in the next co-worker.

I didn’t realise the importance of taking a vacation and time off work until a few years ago, when I found myself forced into a trip with my friends. This was in order to attend a close friend’s wedding in Belgium. Right from the start, there were speculations about my arrival. I have a reputation for last minute drop-outs and by now my family and friends have made peace with my absence. I had cold feet from the time I booked my tickets for the 10-day long vacation. Knowing the wedding scene forward, I anticipated that I would be reprimanded for even using my phone. But I can now admit that those 10 days away from work was the best thing that I had done for myself in years and I vowed to take two weeks out every year to spend time with my family and friends. I realised that the toughest part was in getting there; once there, a new world of adventure opened up.

Here are some useful tips to my fellow workaholics who would rather be at work than anywhere else.

I have found that when people show care and commitment for their job, they get it back bountiful

Involve others in your fear of letting go of work

I could not help but keep rambling about how nervous I was about attending the wedding, knowing there would be reprimand on escaping from late night parties to check my mails and not to mention the time difference. I realised that the more I expressed my discontent about taking the vacation, the more supportive my colleagues became about me taking it. Reverse psychology never seems to get outdated. “Don’t worry, we will handle everything.” When I explained the challenges about not being accessible, they assured me that they would cover for me and contact me only if there was an emergency. I got support in winding up my work and in assigning duties in my absence. I have found that when people show care and commitment for their job, they get it back bountiful.

The first day is tough

I never lifted my head from the time I boarded the plane to the time I reached my hotel, covering as much work as I could. Keeping my phones and laptop out of reach was the toughest thing to do, since I already had warnings about carrying my work into the wedding. I remember taking long bathroom breaks to quickly read my mails and check on work. But the compulsion eased on the second day and continued to decrease in intensity in the days that followed. My need to be on the job all the time diminished and the fact that I had the option to sleep in and not wake up by clockwork was my first delight. I was pleasantly surprised to see that work was actually going on without me and a lot of people got their due importance in my absence.

Because I was occupied from the time I woke up to the time that I went to sleep, work stayed off my mind

Different time zones or low connectivity helps switch off

The one thing that really worked for me was the time difference between India and Europe. It helped ease my nerves about work and made me feel less guilty for having fun at work hours. When I would wake up, the team was already ahead of me and I just needed the half hour of my morning tea-time to see that all was in order and continue the rest of the day in peace. My phone calls turned into instant messages and then my messages turned into one or two emails a day. And by day four, I was officially off work. I have kept this as a tip when I plan my vacations, the further the distance and the greater the time difference, the better it is for me to really get off work and unwind. And when taking a vacation in India, I choose places with low connectivity, such as mountains, wildlife sanctuaries and cruises, so the reach between my work and me is limited.

Pack adventure into your vacation

Because I was occupied from the time I woke up to the time that I went to sleep, work stayed off my mind. We had sightseeing trips, lunches, dinners, parties and shopping sprees all planned and timed. As a person who works non-stop, I have so much energy and if I don’t plan how to expend it at my vacation, I will naturally get back to work. Now when I schedule time-off, I make sure to plan the adventure first. So even though I’m not working, I’m onto something equally exciting and that keeps my ever-ticking mind and creativity going. I have noticed that every vacation that I return from, I find a whole new perspective at work, a perspective that adds greater value, for I had the distance to see that which the proximity didn’t allow.

A vacation is something that is a reminder that there is a life beyond work

Great ideation opportunity

Take advantage. Every vacation has given me immense takeaways that my otherwise busy life disallowed. I could ideate without the pressure of having to do so. I could understand better, being away from the tension and appreciate even the slips and falls that I had been through as a learning curve. Once away from the scene, learning became much easier.

Discovering true happiness

Over the years, being happy had become a challenge. I needed a reason to be happy. So achievement became a necessity towards that end. But when on a vacation, I found happiness without reason, and that is true happiness. The sunrise made me happy, the silence brought joy; the extra sleep brought comfort; and walking in the wilderness brought an elation that no professional accomplishment could even match. This is what I work for—the time and luxury to be free and happy over nothing at all. And I carried that happiness back to work. My colleagues now comment on how I come back calmer and happier after each vacation. My drive was always at a fast pace but my attitude had shifted towards the better.

Value-add to friends and family with your presence

Over the years I had forgotten that I had a responsibility beyond work and that was to add value to the people around me. In spending time with my family it dawned on me how much they valued me and how appreciative they were to spend time with me. They were so eager to learn from my work and me and I could see a mutual exchange of respect in getting to know them better. Over the years the primary reason of going to work [family] had become the secondary reason. I had never known that so many people looked up to me and longed to spend time with me. If my own near and dear ones never get my time, then what good is my work that never served them?

A vacation is not something that comes in the way of work. A vacation is something that is a reminder that there is a life beyond work, a life that we have long forgotten under the daily pressures and professional expectations. If someone told you that you would never get time off when you started out with your job, I can bet my life you would never take it. As much as work is important, so is your life. The ability to ‘switch off’ is as important as the necessity to remain ‘switched on’. Even a machine needs its down time, and you being the one that literally makes your world go round, need that vacation. Take it as a part of your job profile. For, if you don’t discover the ability to switch off, you won’t remain ‘on’ for long.

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