It's me again!

Hello.

I'm the crazy woman who went traipsing around the country for about a month. I think I covered about 7000kms. Crazy.

The train journey from Bombay to Bangalore was only 24 hours. Piece of cake after 32 hours on the Kolkata-Mumbai train! All of my co-passengers were men. All of them. But you know, sometimes that turns out to be a better deal than having women because since you're the only woman, they're actually really nice to you. Giving you lots of space. Agreeing to whatever you request and so I requested for the top berth and they graciously gave it to me. I listened in on some rather strange and interesting conversation, chatted a little bit with the only guy who was about my age. Nothing consequential really. I didn't even ask him his name! Just one of those anonymous acquaintances you make on life's journey, you know? But mostly, I kept to myself and started (and almost finished) this most excellent book called 'Seriously Funny'. I know, it sounds kind of presumptuous a title but it's the plain truth. It is (to borrow from the title) Seriously Funny. It's an exchange of letters between two friends - Adrian Plass and Jeff Lucas about Life, Love and God... You have to read it. I'm going to finish it today and then read it again and write down/highlight some of my favourite bits like this:

When you feel safe at home you can go to any other place on earth and never forget where you really belong, nor be separated from the love that will protect the most important part of you wherever you are and whatever happens to you.


I really needed to hear that. Especially after all this recent travelling alone(and the end not looking so close). I sometimes wake up in the morning feeling like a homeless hobo with nothing much but the money in my wallet and only the clothes that I can very calculatedly fit in one bag. No more than one nice dress. One basic black blouse that I can match with a borrowed saree if I really need something dressy. One pair of fancy shoes. Lots of underwear. The most basic jewellery and make-up. Shampoo in sachets to save space.You get my drift.

And I'm scared sometimes. Every journey has the potential of being disastrous. But I refuse to be a paranoid traveler. I don't want to even give myself that option. I don't want to look at every co-passenger or every vendor that walks into my compartment with suspicion. I don't want to hold on tightly to my bag every moment. I know the risks but I don't want to travel with that constantly playing through my head. Because if I did, I wouldn't be at ease enough to play cards with a bunch of crazy college guys on my train to Kolkata. And those are the things I want to remember. Not how my MP3 player got stolen. But the nice auto driver who got me to Yeshwantpur station (a place that I knew nothing about except that it was really far away!) 45 minutes early. If it weren't for him, I would have probably ended up at the wrong entrance that I didn't even know about and then frantically searched for my platform. I want to remember the man who helped me carry my bag off the train this morning as I alighted at Cantonement station. I want to remember how the weather has been so unpredictable the whole time I have been traveling but every single time I've boarded or alighted a train, there was not a drop falling from the sky. Thank You, God. I want to remember the destinations. Meeting with family, friends and family of friends who have been like family. Going out on a late night walk with my cousin Roon, getting wet and then sheepishly ringing the bell at home in trepidation of the telling-off that was sure to come. Do you know what time it is?! The funny thing was that my mami didn't say anything at all. She just asked me if my hair got wet and if it did I better make sure I dried it properly before I went to bed. That's all she said but I knew she was less than pleased with me. I was just seeing the tip of the ice-berg. I got the whole deal the next morning. How unsafe it was and how irresponsible. And I sat there and listened, nodded my head and promised it wouldn't happen again. And I want to remember that! Because they love me enough to chide me and after the telling off was done with, we laughed about it. I want to remember that! And so many other things.

So yes, traveling alone sucks. Packing and re-packing sucks. Being robbed SUCKS. And I really am looking forward to not have to do this by myself anymore. For the time-being however, be sure to watch this space for more moaning when my time in Bangalore comes to a close and it's time to travel on that wretched-winding-road-that-I-have-traveled-on-too-many-times-to-count to Ooty. Be sure also to know that in spite of some misadventures and the nagging loneliness that comes sometimes, I am grateful. More than I might seem.

p.s. I did miss my music player sorely on the train yesterday. But I am more than making up for it right now. In this empty apartment with the awesome sound system thumping out loud music and me, dancing like a maniac. The way I only do when nobody's watching. Shhh, don't tell anyone.

Marine Drive, Mumbai.
One of many failed attempts at trying to get a decent night shot of Marine Drive a.k.a. The Queen's Necklace.
I tried every trick that I know of. Including standing in very non lady-like postures in my green dress and dressy shoes.
Anyway, this one's my favourite.