Two years ago - my 30th birthday I decided to stop postponing my holidays. So, I drew up a detailed excel sheet of my dream destinations and decided to go for it. But every weekend had a prior commitment and every long weekend was laced with a deadline. A year went by, and I couldn’t make a dent to my list.
It was around that frustrating time that I attended a talk by Ansoo Gupta. Ansoo has traveled to +50 countries alongside her corporate job - much of it along with her kids. Her stories challenged my excuses of work commitments, family time etc. “Book it”, she had said to me, “book it, and then work around it.”
Last year, I chose to follow her advice and my heart. I tasked myself to travel to 12 destinations, one for each month of the year. Over the months that followed - plans were drawn up, Skyscanner busied, budgets allocated, travel buddies nagged, bloggers followed, and travel magazines stacked to do whatever it took. I used every available long weekend, leave, offer & airline sale and all 12 destinations were checked off the list.
Let me take you through the most cherished bits of all my 12 journeys.
DESTINATION 3: HYDERABAD
This destination was made special because of the company - my about-to-be-married sister. This was our catch-up trip, bachelorette, gossip time, beach holiday and spa trip – all rolled into one. When we started, I had a big list that included a big meal at the Chutneys, half a day at IKEA (cause how otherwise, may one be accepted into the modern/urban society?), the three palaces tour, a small splurge at Jagdumba Pearls and the ancient Charminar. However, the scorching heat, an underwhelming pub-experience and the anticipation of zero-sisters-time ensured that we binned my list and spent the second half of the trip lounging away in our hotel catching-up over a Harry Potter marathon and tons of room service.
DESTINATION 5: CAMBRIDGE
My first proper ambition (which wasn’t to become the President of India, an Astronaut or a Chocolate Taster) was to pursue a PhD in Economics from the Cambridge University. I can still remember the glossy pages of their postgraduate prospectus flaunting its majestic ancient colleges. So, the enormously old Cambridge University Press bookstore where I could lose myself for hours, the highly recommended Taste of Cambridge Falafel wrap, the summer picnic lunch on the lawns of the ancient Church of St. Mary and the cheap thrill of a Cambridge hoodie are all bundled fondly in my heart.
DESTINATION 6: GOA
I have always been a bit of an introvert – result? I never had a big gang of girlfriends. It all changed this year when one of my friends planned a trip to the Indian party HQ with 10 of her girlfriends.
We partied the nights, visited the usual haunts of the W, The Olive, Brittos, Cohiba, LPK and Thalassa, spent hours by the poolside, demolished plates of deep-fried finger-food, filled our phones with groupfies, dug our toes in the sand and rendered the suntan lotions useless at the beaches. All of this, amidst a healthy dose of giggles, chatter and gossip.
DESTINATION 7: TUNGI
As the summer weans off its peak, tabs open on my machine looking for misty & rainy hilly hideaways. I feel that a rainy day spent indoors is a day wasted. I am the one for the serpentine expressway shining beneath the raindrops and the lush greens of the mountains flaunting its out-of-shower beauty.
DESTINATION 8: MULSHI
Having traveled the length and breadth of the world during his professional life, he’s now my exact opposite. This makes it a bit of a personal triumph to usher the Old Man out of our home, into the car and drive him away into the hills.
DESTINATION 4: LONDON
My friends call London ‘my gaon’ – because of my love for the city. One that comes from the history that’s tucked away in every wall, the properness of almost everything, love for bland food, clever humor, their appreciation and pride of their heritage, Arthur Conan Doyle, Coleslaw, Primark (yeah, I hoard) and uh…Harry Potter.
DESTINATION 9: PAWANA
This one was the wholesome Gujarati joint-family outing with all its usual suspects – luxury lodging, good food, swimming pool, homemade thepla, morning walks, walking into each other’s rooms, adrakhwali chai and constant chatter. And for me, this trip is an annual reminder of the blessing that my big-n-loud Gujarati family is!
The second Site called for a short drive from Ahmadabad – to Patan. Rani ki Vav (Patan) is a stepwell built as an inverted temple in the 11th century by Rani Udaimati in memory of her husband, Solanki King Bhim 1. The stepwell was buried underground during a flood in the 13th century. Early signs of the hidden Heritage were discovered in 1940s by local farmers. It was only in 1958 that the Archaeological Survey of India took up a 10 years old excavation project to unearth this wonder.
DESTINATION 12: DARJEELING
If someone was to say ‘Darjeeling’ in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai-style rapid fire – the most common top-of-mind response you will hear will be ‘Kanchenjunga’. And oh, how true that is! The magnificent snowy peak follows you everywhere you go – be it as you hog on the (slightly greasy) breakfast at Kaventers or as you nudge the Babu-moshay at the train station for the 76th time or as you warm up your palms and insides alike with a plate of Maggi as you wait for your turn at the Ropeway.
DESTINATION 11: GANGTOK
Whatever anyone may tell you about the culture, food, society, rituals, monasteries in Sikkim – what makes it breath-taking is the azure waters of the Teesta. And the beautiful Teesta river makes an appearance as soon as you commence your drive to Gangtok from Siliguri. The sleepy Siliguri dissolves and the stunningly blue-green waters gushing among the balding white rocks join you all the way it the Sikkimese capital over a 4hour long drive.
DESTINATION 1: UDAIPUR
When I was little, my father returned from a work trip with postcards of a hotel that was floating in the middle of a lake. I remember thinking that it looked like a large water lily - gleaming white in the sunshine amidst the sparkling water. Over the years, I have landed on the booking page of the Taj Lake Palace several times (but turned away, looking at the tariff). This January, I finally clicked the ‘Book’ button.
DESTINATION 2: JODHPUR
Having been brought up on a steady diet of my grandfather’s theatrical and passionate retelling of our legends, I have always gravitated towards battle scarred walls. Jodhpur seemed to me, a city of the bygone, still giving a glimpse of the city that Rao Jodha envisioned. It seemed so much in love with its upward sloping by-lanes and indigo blue houses guarded perennially by the Maherangarh – that it has just let the time pass it by.
DESTINATION 10: AHMEDABAD & PATAN
Over the last two years, I have planned trips to witness the most unique celebrations of Navratri/Dussehra across India. In 2017, I spent the long weekend attending Ramleela & Ravan Dahen in Indore – something that’s alien to us Mumbaikars. The 2018 Dussehra was spent witnessing the Royal celebration in Mysore with the exemplary procession and the Palace that is lit up like an aarti thaal. This year, the weekend was spent in the city where Navratri puts on a sparkly Ghaghra, throws back her head and dances all night on the beats of dhol.
So, I sailed away from their private jetty on the chamkeela waters of the Pichhola. The two days were lined with luxuries that I had never-before experienced like a private fancy boat, being showered with flowers for welcome, a room upgrade and delicious meals. But then again, there are two other equally luxurious hotels in the vicinity. What made the Taj Lake Palace a living dream was the realization that I had 250 years of history under my feet, that the glorious Lily Pond that I gazed at from my breakfast table had someday been the priced part of the Maharani’s zenana, that the lush old tree that kept the sun out of my eyes as I took a dip in the pool had been witness to over 100 years of history and that if I put my ears to the walls of my room and listened hard - just maybe it will whisper a forgotten Rajputana tale!
Jodhpur trips are all about mood-lit rooftop restaurants, angithis that beat the January chill, sun-downers against the cliff of Maherangarh, an non-confess-able quantity of Mirchi-vada, selfies against the Moroccan blue houses, lingering tunes woven by a lone Ravanahatha and a government guide who will conclude 700 years of history within 40 mins.
The best part of this trip was the walking tour of the old city that we took with a local (arranged by Zostel). It was an outflow of stories and references – the pond for the queens, the blue houses marking Brahmin residences and the whispers of the old & grey fort. And then we came by one of the gates of the old city, with hand imprints of its queens who embraced Jauhar. As we stood there listening to the tale of the three Jauhars’ of Chittor, my notions of feminism and courage were repeatedly challenged. The reality and magnitude of the act hit me as I ran my fingers over the Chandan clad imprints made just like a newly-wed bride – only this time, as she parted from her husband (who did Shaakh) and walked into a pit of fire, her head held high. Although, it was impossible to wrap my 2019 brain around it, I was unable to refute that this were indeed an act of war.
Yet, the picture of the Charminar stayed with me, standing tall amidst the gullys that resembled an ancient Arabian souk with a whiff of masalas, the glitter of lac and the music of the general anarchy. The old structure that now bears more etchings of new-age love than those of our culture/history – has two stories of inception. First is of celebration of eradication of cholera and second of love-at-first sight.
My trips are usually carefully crafted to include old favorites and new experiences. I relive my student life through the old favorites – the big Falafel Halloumi Wrap at Pret, Wagamama’s Katsu Curry, Kappacasein’s ridiculously cheesy sourdough sandwiches that can fill you up for multiple meals, exercising Indian maneuvering abilities at the crowded Primark store, the long-brooding walk down the South Bank with only roasted chestnuts for company, a steaming mug of hot-choc from Choccywoccydoodah, strut around the sunlit Camden sipping on the icy orange juice, check-out the trending book-titles on the tube, sample local produce at the historic Borough Market, spend the lunch hour at the Trafalgar Square and watch the world go by over a bagel and smoothie.
This summer, the new experiences included a trip to Woburn Safari Park with the nephews, a cherry-blossom laden Green Park, Primrose Hill and a long and lazy Pimms-filled birthday lunch at a pub in the Epping Forest.
And then there was punting. Students and visitors relaxing on the greens ashore the Cam river while their friends try to maneuver a punt, occasionally falling into the river splashing the waist high waters around. However, our punting ride was made special because of our wonderful guide who took us through the colleges and departments with amazing references to the Indian Cambridge alumni & Harry Potter.
There’s something magical about University towns – something hopeful and motivational that the metropoles lack. Maybe it’s the intent with which the founders built the colleges or the will of the scholars who have persisted their studies over the centuries or just the sheer number of young, aspiring, enthusiastic, untarnished minds that thrive in the area.
This trip was special because I made new friends. I knew only 3 of the 10 girls that I traveled with – which meant that after struggling with my new-people-inertia for about 3 hours, I made 6 new friends. The 6 girls came from varied professional and social backgrounds. It was truly unbelievable for me how 10 women so different from one another managed to have memorable birthday weekend trip which felt like one with old friends.
Tucked-away on the under-discovered side of the Pawana Dam, an hour past the beeline of Pawana Lake campsites – Amanzi Resort is a hidden paradise where the clouds peek into the feet of your four poster, and you can enjoy the barsaat in the company of ginger-laced-tea and Kishore Kumar. Where the mornings are spent walking barefoot on the lush mist-clad grass and night listening to the splatter of the rain against the calm, quiet night.
Malhar Machi (Mulshi) has been on my hidden-away-and-extremely-quiet-places wish-list for a few years now. It’s a farm-stay concealed beneath the tall lush trees near the Mulshi Dam. The rooms come bearing four poster beds and a handsome balcony jhoola (swing) overlooking the greens. Here, the rain splatters (quite ferociously) and the faraway mountains play hide-and-seek with the traveling water-filled clouds.
At this Mulshi getaway – we met Ravi, the amazing Coorgi. A hard-core Coorgi man who manages the estate and tells wondrous stories of his homeland as he gives you a tour of the property. As you walk past their cowshed, farms, groves – he unfolds stories of Coorg’s relationship with the Armed Forces, hunting peacocks, their own ancient medicine and snacking on Tiger meat/fat.
We’re usually the ones who skirt the ‘entertainment’ activities offered by the hotel – but this time, we did them all. We Segway-ed across the resort, rode a tandem cycle, did nature walks and attended the musical bonfire nights. However, the one moment that stands dear to me was that of a solitary afternoon spent with my feet dipped into the plunge pool and the light drizzle and cool breeze for company.
Ahmedabad’s love for Navratri hits you as soon as you deplane – when the Airport Authorities present a garba flash-mob and you witness groups of people dancing in broad daylight as you drive into the city. Navratri is the biggest event of the year for the Gujaratis – when friends with access to public celebrations are sought and buttered-up, weightless planned in advance to fit into the Ghaghras, tailors booked to stitch that backless choli and masseuses hired so that you’re never tired over the 9 nights of dancing. The communal celebrations too, are very different from those that I have witnessed in Mumbai. The garba are danced in concentric circles around the deity – and the worship has an overarching presence in both the dance and music. Its only when you experience everything from ghaghra fitting sessions, kedia-clad boys on moped and the gigantic public garba celebrations that ablaze the city every night – that you really appreciate the expanse and importance of the festival for the city.
While the nights were spent dancing away to the dhol – I used the days to visit two UNESCO World Heritage Sites. The first site Khadia (Ahmadabad) houses ~300-year-old gated communities known as ‘Poles’. Poles were caste-based gated communities created by Hindus within the walled city to safeguard their families from the communal unrest at the times of Mughal & Maratha invasions. Residents of the Poles follow only one rule - one for all, all for one. With their own sanitation, security arrangements & a corpus – the poles are early learnings of the current residential societies. There are rules on buying/renting in and out of the pole, celebrations and funerals, hygiene and punishments. Khadia also is home to birthplaces of several Gujarati cultural & literature stalwarts and political figures – like the social-reformist poet Akho & Magsaysay Awardee Ila Bhat (of Sewa Bank).
And hence, my favorite part of this trip was the random, unplanned hour spent by the Teesta amidst imposing hills when the only sound around me was of the flowing icy-cold water. With my chest full of extra doses of oxygen and head calm with the surrounding silence – my heart yearned for Perkin’s camping-tent (Potter-reference, can’t help it!) and cup of chai.
Sikkim boasts of a rather unique culture that bears influences of Nepal, Tibet, India & China - with its rosy-cheeked people, incredibly fresh and flavorful Momos, Sel Roti – Alu Dum dinners, quietly poetic monasteries and omnipresent climbs. I returned with my bags full of memories of the sweet Fauji who sent us all the way back to Rumtek Monastery because we missed seeing the Golden Stupa, two little Lamas catching up on cartoons on a city-kid’s phone, the lady at the Golden Wok who recommended a glass of wonderfully hot toddy as we shivered in the winter afternoon breeze, humming on Hindi retro songs as we warmed our toes by the bonfire and a 27,000 steps of climbing in a single day (phew!).
Darjeeling in my opinion is a fictional town – it’s like one of those old idyllic stories. One written by an optimistic, kind-hearted, romantic, beauty-loving, old men. It’s so beautiful and bygone, that you must give yourself an intermittent shake that its real. Darjeeling also wears its Raj affiliations proudly, like a badge. The old Glannery (more than a century old) and our hotel The Elgin reek history and you’re drawn into a world of the old British classics (and for a more modern reference, Downton Abbey).
If you do it well, you will leave this hilly town with an image so impactful that it will never leave you. All you need to do is wake up at 3AM, drive down to the base of a mountain, then climb the hill (without any fences/scaffolding) in pitch darkness and then wait atop that hill for about an hour as your body freezes to the point of numbness. If you brave so much ‘and’ if you’re lucky (like me) – the first rays of the sun will hit the peak of Kanchenjunga. And the faraway snowy peak will glow. The golden glow will slowly reflect onto the surrounding dark clouds translating the sun rays to various spellbinding colors.
Words will fail you as you will walk down the Summit of Ghoom – wondering what other such incredible creations has the Almighty hidden away from you!
2019 has been pretty much like its predecessors – I had good and bad days at work, endured my fare share of frustrations, ran into health hiccups, achieved some goals and missed the others. But these 12 adventures filled my year with memories and learnings that only travel can bring.
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