Travel Diaries Chapter 1 - Best Laid Plans

About twenty years ago we had our 25th reunion - that would mean a reunion after 25 years of leaving school. And it was such fun to discover sixteen year olds leading such responsible lives - big careers - families - wives & children  (for in our hearts and minds we were still sixteen, no matter the passage of time) that it became rather addictive. Soon it became an annual then bi-annual, then 'whenever'ual. So when covid struck and the world was surviving in silos we were all heartbroken and the only thing that kept us going was a promise to meet in December of 21. That should, we calculated, be ample time for this unnecessary pestilent to be out of our lives and be safe enough for us to travel to meet. I plead guilty. I initiated it. In the month of March 2021 when the country was going through the throes of the second wave, we fixed on December and Jabalpur for the next meet.

We'll finalise in September, I said. That should be ample time for hotel bookings if we went ahead, I said.

You know we are not going, right? Said Amit, my dear husband, who was enjoying being coccooned in our apartment a little too much.

No we are not - but I won't declare that to the gang just yet. I replied

And so it went on. In the midst of all the deaths and burning pyres in the country, planning a holiday (that we were not planning to go on), with a group of "mad hatters" kept us sane. Somewhere along the way Delhi got added to the trip. How could we depart from Mumbai and not meet the family? Parents and siblings we hadn't seen for two years? And if we were doing Delhi - maybe, just maybe we could do Dehradun?

I think Dehradun clinched the deal. With Deepak and Ambika telling us about a direct flight to this little airport called Jolly Grant and that they would fetch us and it would be sunshine and fresh air...

Then Kattu (one of the mad hatters) called from Dubai. What are you guys planning after Jabalpur? We could drive back to Bangalore and maybe go chill out in Kerala - check out Kodaikanal on the way. Just take roads that beckon - no fixed itinerary? I have to tell you at this point that Amit shares some sort of a deep bond with Kattu. So of course the "post" Jabalpur part was happening but we were still not decided on the "pre". 

There was also the matter of monies. Covid had stopped our regular income avenues. Going on such an extensive holiday would mean dipping into our savings. Should we? Shouldn't we? Could we? Didn't we deserve a little happiness?

We won't do any shopping, I said.

I'll stick to rum, Amit said, no expensive scotch.

And bare minimum gifting

And we'll shoot some interesting episodes

And anyway we might die tomorrow so what the hell?

Meanwhile I was also keeping a tab on the covid situation all around. I wasn't too keen on flying because I felt Covid was an urban virus being spread by urban dwellers who were more likely to be flying. And on that aircraft (read enclosed space) you couldn't open a window to get in some fresh air.

Trains, I said.

You'll expose yourself for 18 hours instead of 2, said Apu, the host mad hatter from Jabalpur.

No, I said. Two hours at the airport checking in, two hours on the flight and then one hour to get out of the destination airport. That's a minimum five hours of concentrated exposure to the virus in an air conditioned environment, with nowhere to run to.

Just get on that flight to Jolly Grant, Deepak said. Nothing will happen. We'll be there.

So it was decided. Fly to Doon, drive to Delhi, train to Jabalpur and thereafter the safety of Kattu's car. With a mutual agreement (between Amit and I) that at any time the covid situation got bad again we would cancel the rest of the journey and return to our cocoon.

The next challenge was packing. A cheap flight meant low baggage allowance. Plus the fact that none of Amit's clothes fitted him anymore. Two years of being cooped up in the flat had had its toll. For the first time in two years Amit and I stepped out of our home, double masked and holding hands, armed with our vaccine certificates we ventured into malls and markets picking out plus size clothes that fitted our pocket and aesthetics. No easy job that. Especially if you combine it with the separation anxieties of the trial rooms.

We even dared to lunch out for the first time. Two thousand of our precious rupees wasted in a horrible fine dining restaurant called W, that served us garlic chicken with a very indian vegetable pulao. Or you can have a naan, they said.

We'll have the bill, Amit said.

The world has changed, I ranted. It makes no sense. Should we tell them we are the Slow Fire Chefs? How can they serve this weird combination? And it was kachcha fish and...

Come on - we have "No Time to Die". We'll miss the beginning.

Yup we were doing it all!

More on the road trip later. 

Have a good week folks! 

Semanti 

Head Chef 

(P.s: Some of the pictures in this blog are captured by another mad hatter Kanchana)