Solo trips are apparently great fun. So when I went to Kasol looking for peace and some “revelations”, the dehumanizing demon of Tinder was far from my sight and mind.
But in the platform which reduces life experiences and matters of the heart to Right and Left Swipe, Kasol was surely a perfect match with me. And I figured this out when in an utterly boring moment of coffee and cold sandwiches I picked up my phone and tapped on the god forsaken application which promises love like Flipkart fakes discounts.
By the Book
When I arrived after a near-death experience of a cab ride from Bhuntar to Kasol, my travel bug was at the peak of it’s short life. I read all I could on cafes to check out in Kasol, best places to eat, nearby villages and most of all, the cheapest place to stay. I followed the “book” and expected to be awarded by a life changing experience.
But the book wears out after you get your economic fixes. And temptations of emotional fixes start surfacing in our spoilt fingertips and hearts.
Boredom
And as boredom begins to prevail in cafes which your readings sold as “great fun”, but seem dull because you don’t really like trance music or dim lights. And after finding a few river facing restaurants I sat there gloomily in the efforts to read a book and make myself proud, and guiltily engaged with my phone.
Epiphany
I figured what’s the point of wailing away my precious hours on the likes of underwhelming novels and overwhelming food. And turned to the online community of lost and eager lovers who believe in hooking up as a path to finding the Soul Mate. But I had a plan, I was not looking for a disappointing romantic encounter. I was looking for someone who could, well, actually show me around and have a few drinks with my disappointed wanderlust.
T-I-N-D-E-R
After a quick swipes and Sherlock-ing around Tinder, I right swiped three men and waited to be matched. As a moderately attractive girl in a small village, waiting for more than 3 hours on Tinder seemed like a judgment on my online ferocity. I stepped up my game. And changed a few pictures with the ones which cross 100 likes on Facebook.
My little alteration gave me a match. One match. That’s all I needed.
I made my intentions further clear by sending a stern but polite message about my plan and what I was looking. I was not looking for a vodka shot. I was looking for scotch on ice which would bring my enthusiasm back to life. Softly.
He was a tattoo artist in Manali. Perfect. A local. We exchanged obligatory information about colleges, cities and careers, and then with the deepening intimacy we discussed parents, siblings and lovers (which none of us had obviously).
He curiously asked me,
“Why would you turn to Tinder for sightseeing?”
My brain rushed with multiple permutations and combinations which would ‘sound right’ and also ‘quite cool’. After few seconds of silence I settled with,
“If people can turn to Tinder to find love, I can very well afford a guide.”
Kasol
The next three days I spent 5-6 hours with him every day. We walked. A lot. Crossed the GODFORSAKINGLY DANGEROUS bridge to Chalal, hitched a cab together to Tosh, sat by the Parvati river discussing Global Warming and then visited the Manikaran gurudwara. Except these we talked, breathing the divinely pure air of Kasol, as we sat in my hotel balcony staring profoundly at the snow covered peaks wondering why do these hills seem closer and came up with embarrassing secondary school facts.
As he made fun of my tattoos I realized that Kasol and Tinder was a perfect match for me. We don’t always realize that the travels we take and journeys we embark upon are almost always hoping for a destination, and expect that destination be to be enlightening. But sometimes, the likes of me manage polite intereferences of the Modern World and settle for beautiful sightseeing with strangers instead.