Going solo v/s Going with a gang

A sumptuous breakfast spread followed by a safari at the national park, an afternoon of quad biking through dirt roads, a refreshing spa treat in the evening and a night at the theatre… I stared at my itinerary for the day in dismay. I was all alone in Sun City, South Africa, with no one to share all these magical moments with, forget the luxurious suite I was put up in at the Palace of the Lost City. And then, while in my depths of despair, I hit another low—literally. I toppled over on my quad bike while attempting to navigate through a deep ditch. Immediately, I was surrounded by anxious and concerned queries. The ice broke [luckily, none of my bones did], and I spent what was left of the day with my newfound friends. Just like that, I wasn’t alone anymore. Now I know, starting out by yourself doesn’t mean you will end up lonely.

Three days plus four places adds up to seven gal pals having a lot of fun! We cycled through the fields of Dapoli, parasailed on the shores of Murud, trekked up a hill in Keshavraj and finally, watched the sun set in Harnai. In those last moments, the sky was ablaze with the sea reflecting its fiery mood. I raced to the water’s edge and dipped my feet into its brilliant colour palette, letting the froth of the waves wrap itself like delicate lace around my toes. Moments like these, as wonderful as they may be, pass. But the bonds of friendship made stronger by such memories last forever.

Taking a hike v/s Taking a break

Monsoon, for me, is the season to trek. It’s when the hills come alive with the sounds and sights of flora and fauna. Of the few treks that I’ve managed to ‘conquer’ so far, was the one in which I reached the top of one particular hill fort. It had proved to be a battle between my physical and mental strength. This goliath of mine is called Manikgad. That day, I trekked for a total of eight hours, climbing, sliding, tripping and dragging my weight through slippery sludge, smooth rock and tall grass. At the end of it all, I stood proud albeit on wobbly knees. Remember, if you don’t test your limit, how will you brag about it?

Sometimes you take a break, other times you are given one. When I realised I didn’t have to report to work everyday any more, I headed south to Pondicherry. What did I do there? Nothing… nothing but eat, take naps, play with the dogs, chase butterflies, sit idly under a canopy of creepers and take a stroll. Ah, I’ve never felt such a sense of accomplishment. It’s a pity how we forget that the purpose of a holiday is to relax.

On a shoestring budget v/s All expenses paid

The magical city of Udaipur conjured up images of its five-star Lake Palace in my mind. Alas, I’m no princess. My budget for the trip was tighter than the knot on my shoelaces. So, I opted to stay at Hotel Gangaur Palace, a 100-year-old typically Rajasthani haveli on the banks of Lake Pichola. For INR 500 a day, our room was clean, spacious and airy. We may not have had fluffy pillows with mints placed on top, but we had something the guests at the Palace didn’t—a view of the glittering luxury hotel and its reflection in the shimmering waters on a moonlit night. Some of the best things in life don’t come at a price; don’t you agree?

Would you pay double the price for the same result? Never, I once said. I couldn’t believe my friend was paying a ridiculous amount to fly business class. ‘Economy’ will get you at half the price to the same destination, was my emphatic argument. Until the day I was upgraded, and I had to swallow my words, along with some champagne, of course. Lesson learnt: before you take off on a war of words, base your point of view on experience and not thin air.

Pre-planned v/s Going with the flow

I almost didn’t want to go to Europe. Since we decided against going with tour operator, we had to plan our own itinerary. First, we had to zone in on the countries we wanted to visit, then the places within each, then what to do in each place and how many days to spend there, where to stay, how to get around….you get the picture. Then we had to organise the required visa documents, the foreign exchange, the travel insurance, the air and train tickets… It was a nightmare that turned into a dream come true. Now I’m armed with the experience to conquer another continent!

I spent a fortune in Macau, but not on gambling. Expecting to be dazzled by the night life of the Vegas of China, a friend and I hopped onto a ferry from Hong Kong. We didn’t have a clue what to do, and there was no one to tell us. Everyone dispersed immediately, leaving us stranded on the pier in the dead of the night. A couple of taxi rides later, our pockets much lighter, we decided to walk to all the sights then on. The Grand Canal Shoppes at The Venetian, Senado Square, Macau Tower, the ruins of St Paul’s… we saw it all, all by ourselves. Eventually exhausted, we slept on the streets. Figuring out your own way when you’re completely in the dark is a thrill unmatched.

On business v/s For pleasure

I did something in Amsterdam that no one expected me to. I worked. I was on an assignment to interview inspirational women and return to tell their stories. I met an absent-minded artist who had me in splits with her antics, an actor who told me her biggest role was being herself, and a museum director with a life I would love to live. I was truly inspired. It’s not the sights that make a place memorable, it’s the people.

Sometimes a place seeks you out instead of the other way around. Dhaulchhina is one such place in my life. Nestled in the midst of the mighty Himalayas, its beauty has the power to elevate you from within. The swami who resided there was probably a testament to its spiritual powers. The view that unveiled after a heavy thundershower was a magical sight to behold… I was enraptured by the tenderness of the clouds parting to reveal the mightiness of the snow-capped mountain peaks. I felt transformed.

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At the Popes’ Palace in Avignon, the stone walls were impressive; the interiors of  the palace spoke of years of planning and labour in creating a structure that has withstood the ravages of time and war and political skirmishes.

History lives within these walls. But it was a sudden encounter with this couple looking through the windows that brought a thought to mind that it was the people dwelling within the walls of any place that make it come alive.

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Prayers here are heard, not through loudspeakers, but in the flutter of a flag and the twirl of a wheel. I could sense whispers of hope and gratitude through the corridors of the monasteries I visited.

Spituk, Shey and Thiksey lie in and around Leh. Hire a taxi for the day and see the sites at your own time and pace. Do stop to feed the fish in the holy pond opposite the Shey Palace. And request your driver to take you to Sindhu Ghat. This is one way to take it easy on your first day around town.

‘Ladakh is drab; shades of brown can be so boring,’ yawned an acquaintance, as I was about to leave on my trip. Ah, but when I was there, the landscape was bursting with colour… I could see it in the pink blossoms of the apricot trees, the mint green waters of the river Indus, the streaks of red in the earth, and the glorious blue expanse of the sky.

Desert Rain is an oasis in the market area of Leh. You’ll find it in a by-lane, up a stairway on the first floor of an inconspicuous structure. Just follow the aroma of hot mocha. When it’s nippy outside, this is the place to be. Thanks to the girls from the Snow Leopard Conservancy India Trust, I spent many an evening here giggling over bowls full of steaming noodles.

Three hours of walking, stopping, catching our breath, walking again and I stumbled into the village of Rumbak. It lies within Hemis, a high altitude National Park in eastern Ladakh. Along the way, my guide Gyaltson pointed out the blue sheep making their way across a mountain ridge. When we arrived at our home-stay in Rumbak, our host offered us cups of tea as she prepared lunch. I watched her look after her two-year-old boy, clean the house, milk the cows, work in the field, completing chore after chore with a tireless smile.

Roads signs that caution against rash driving are common in this part of the world. The Border Road Organisation’s favourite seems to be ‘Divorce speed — if you are married’. Clearly, the single life is not of much value in the hills. But the most ridiculous one of the lot was ‘Don’t be gama (?!) in the land of lama’.

Once in a while, you come across a sign that says it all. The message was clear…

My home in Leh was at the Gangba Guesthouse. My room was a quaint space with a large window that opened out to a field and a view of Shanti Stupa in the distance. But I spent most of my time in the kitchen of Gangba with the warmth of a loving family. I witnessed some of the most spectacular sunrises and sunsets at Gangba. But more than anything, I remember the laughter, the meals, and the tenderness I experienced here.

I had the chance to visit the Nomadic Residential School at Puga. We celebrated Earth Day with the teams of WWF and SLC-IT. I have never seen a bunch of children so excited to be at school on a Sunday! There was a presentation about the endangered snow leopard and a very-tough-to-judge art competition.

The school principal spoke about the challenges they face living in such a remote part of the world. “Before they enrolled, the children had never seen a television set in their life,” he said, “They were terrified when they first encountered one.”

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Uttarakhand

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Hidden in the hills of Uttarakhand is a trail of precious gems. Take your pick, from the ruby hues of Ranikhet, the emerald forests of Jageshwar, the sapphire skies of Badrinath and the topaz tints in nature at Binsar.

Ranikhet, the Ruby

Cupid must live here, for the shades of love are everywhere—not just in the flowers, but also in the bright red ladybird, in the soft pink cloud floating by, in the rusty roof of a cottage, and in the glistening pink peak of Trishul at sunset.

Despite the chill in the mountain air, you will find yourself warming up to picturesque Ranikhet almost immediately. It’s an idyllic town, with not much to do except.

• Wake up at sunrise to watch the Himalayan peaks being bathed in a golden glow.
• Stroll through the forest paths [carpeted with red rhododendron petals, if you are there in summer].
• Hike up to Chaubatia, a fruit orchard known for its crisp, juicy apples.
• Sample the local juices— Rhododendron [buransh], litchi, pomegranate, amla—all fresh and bursting with flavour.
• Tuck into traditional Kumaoni cuisine—gahat dal, bhat chutkani, aloo gutke and, of course, the mustard raita.
• Find a cosy nook to read a book, or chat with the friendly bird that will flutter by now and then.
• Settle down at dusk with a steaming cup of chai and some company, even if it’s just of the twinkling stars above.

In a place where time seems to stand still, you’ll be surprised how quickly the days go by. I found that two days were definitely not enough to do nothing!

Did you know?

Ranikhet is Hindi for ‘queen’s meadow’. It gets its name from a local legend; according to which, a queen, Rani Padmini, was awed by the beauty of this place and chose it as her abode. There are no signs of a palace in the area, though.

Getting there

Delhi is approximately 350km away. You can either drive [8 hours] to Ranikhet, or take a train to Kathogodam [the nearest railhead]. From here, you can opt for the road route through Nainital or Bhimtal [slightly shorter].

Jageshwar, the Emerald

This must be what they call the ‘other side’, as the grass is certainly greener here. Jageshwar, a temple town, is nestled in the midst of a deodar forest. How apt, when you consider the name ‘deodar’ is derived from the Sanskrit term devadaru or ‘wood of the gods’.

The trees here loom above you, their needle-like leaves cutting patterns through the sunlight. The sights and the smells of the forest lure you to follow and lose yourself in its winding paths. And, for once, you should give in to temptation. Climb high enough and, if you’re as lucky as I was, you might catch a glimpse of a lone cherry blossom tree growing rebelliously amongst the green deodars. And when you wish to head back to town, just follow the sound of laughter of children making their way to school. The stream will then guide you to the temple compound. It’s a prettier path than taking the road through the town.

The temples, 124 in all, were built between the 9th and the 13th century; Mahamritunjaya Mahadev being the oldest and largest of them all. From the larger shrines to the smaller lingams, a layer of vivid green moss grows on the surface of every stone, complementing the bright orange red floral offerings. With not too many tourists around, there is a sense of serenity as you walk barefoot on the cool floor of the temple compound. But I found more tranquillity amidst the trees.

Did you know?

It is believed that Lord Shiva came to meditate at Jageshwar. A local tale says that his sight drew the women of the village closer for his darshan, which infuriated the men. And so the Lord took the form of a child, which is the reason he is worshipped in his adolescent form here.

Getting there

Jageshwar is accessible by road from Almora [35km], Pithoragarh [88km], Haldwani [130km] and Kathgodam [125km], which is the nearest railhead.

Binsar, the Topaz

Trishul, Nanda Devi, Panchchuli… the prominent peaks of the Kumaon range are the true showstoppers. Dressed in swirling white clouds, like celebrities, they dazzle and pose for you, turning even amateur photographers into paparazzi. It is only when you snap out of the hypnotic hold of the Himalayas that you see Binsar and the sanctuary that it is.

While the intermingling branches of oak and rhododendron trees form the roof of the forest, moss carpets most of its floor. The carpet, the green having dried out, is a regal yellow with patterns formed by rays of sunlight. So dense is the sanctuary that you must step off the well-trodden pathways to find a clearing, for a view of the valley below and a glimpse of a golden eagle circling nearby.

You will find the streaks of topaz in the sky at sunrise. At this time of the day, the Himalayan peaks are shrouded in a veil of haze, allowing the landscape to be in the limelight. And at night, with electricity being a guest that leaves too soon, it is the candlelight that provides a warm yellow glow for company.

Did you know?

The mythological war between King of Binsar and Golu Devata resulted in the latter having his head and trunk cut off in areas near Binsar. Temples mark the site where each part is said to have fallen.

Getting there

The nearest railhead is Kathgodam [126km]. Private taxis will take you directly to Binsar. Budget travellers can opt for the local bus or a shared cab to Almora, and then hire a vehicle for the remaining 35km.

Badrinath, the Sapphire

Here, above the tree line, more than 3,400m high, the snow-capped peaks etch themselves against the brightest blue backdrop of the sky. And the vegetation, even the human dwellings, appears to shrink in size in awe of its vastness. But the river will not be outdone; the Alaknanda carves its way through in a stunning icy blue hue of its own. And yet, the main attraction of this town is its temple.

The Badrinath temple, dressed in bright red and yellow finery, stands out against the pink and blue dwellings that crowd the area. It has faced the wrath of Nature, with avalanches and earthquakes striking the region over the years, and has been renovated several times over. Today, its colourful stone exterior is topped with a gold gilt roof.

Being the most important of the four sites in the Hindu Char Dham pilgrimage, the temple is thronged by devotees in the warmer seasons. And so, if you visit during the onset of winter, just before the cold is too biting to bear, you can climb up the stairway to the shrine without being pushed rudely back to earth. Later, as the domineering Neelkanth Parbat casts a chilly shadow over the landscape, you can warm yourself up with a dip in the Tapt Kund hot springs.

Did you know?

Sage Vyasa is said to have written the epic Mahabharata in a cave in Mana, near Badrinath. The Pandavas in this epic are believed to have passed through this place on their way to heaven.

Getting there

Badrinath is reachable by road routes from Delhi, Haridwar and Rishikesh. The nearest airport is Jolly Grant at Dehradun [317km]. The nearest railhead is Rishikesh [297km].

This was first published in the February 2012 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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