Enchanting Bali Escapade: A Journey to Tropical Serenity

Embarking on a solo journey to Bali wasn't just a vacation; it was an odyssey of self-discovery, cultural immersion, and boundless exploration. As a solo traveler, every moment became an opportunity to delve into the intricacies of this enchanting island. From the vibrant markets of Ubud to the serene beaches of Nusa Penida, each location unfolded its unique story.

Solo travel, contrary to popular belief, is not about solitude; it's a gateway to forging connections that transcend borders. In Bali, I found myself seamlessly woven into the vibrant tapestry of diverse cultures. Engaging with locals and in their daily rituals and celebrations opened my eyes to the richness of Balinese traditions, a depth of understanding I might have missed in a group setting. Talking to global tourists , battling challenges at the ATMs created a feeling of bonding in a new country. 

Navigating the island solo also meant navigating the labyrinth of self-discovery. The quiet moments spent in contemplation amidst the terraced rice fields or during a sunrise view from my hotel room were revelations that resonated deep within. Solo travel is a dialogue with oneself, a chance to confront fears, embrace uncertainties, and emerge stronger.

The beauty of traveling alone lies in the serendipity of human connections. Whether sharing stories with fellow travelers at a cozy warung (roadside stalls) or joining a spontaneous beach bonfire, I discovered the magic of instant friendships. Solo travel is a catalyst for building connections that transcend the transient nature of a holiday, leaving indelible marks on the journey.

Moreover, the autonomy of solo travel fueled a hunger for knowledge. My carefully planned itinerary gave me ample opportunities to savor each moment that i enjoyed and discard another the moment I realized i did not like it.  I am not a trekker and I skipped those that involved steep steps. This meant I got more time to be in spots I loved to be.  Every encounter became an opportunity to expand my cultural lexicon, transforming the trip into an educational odyssey.

The trip transcended beyond a mere holiday; it was a transformative experience. The freedom to explore, connect, and learn not only enriched my understanding of this tropical paradise but also left an indelible imprint on my own journey of self-discovery.

My Itinerary included 3 days in Denpasar, 2 nights in Kuta and 1 night in Ubud. Having experienced this,  I highly recommend 3 nights in Kuta (highly recommend where i stayed... The Kana) and 3 nights in Ubud (Seres Spring Spa).  Both places are a delight. 30 minutes away from main market areas. Best breakfast and easy accessibility of ATMs and GRAB (that's an app which is equivalent to our Uber and swiggy).  I would slip Denpasar for stay and suggest you visit one of the beaches for sunset and lovely vibes. I was at Teba Cafe, their sea food was world class. All links shared below. 

What not to do;

1. Choosing Inna Bali Heritage Hotel for stay... it's really ancient Heritage structure... please avoid 

2. Don't forget an umbrella...helpful in heat as well as rain. Bali is hot throughout the year.. 

3. Don't pack any fancy stuff...shorts n cotton tops

.and BIG tube of Sunscreen is all that you need

4. Take little Indian food like Theplas... you may crave for it. 

Some pictures.....

The Rollercoaster of Perils and Thrills

In the vast and ever-evolving landscape of modern romance, dating apps stand out as both the saviors and pranksters of Cupid's realm. While matrimonial sites are still playing matchmaker for Auntie Ji's distant cousin's nephew, the younger generation has taken matters into their own hands, quite literally, with a swift right swipe.

Enter Bumble, the app where women make the first move – a revolutionary concept in a world where decisive decisions are usually left to the toss of a coin. It's like a virtual dance floor where the ladies choose their partners, and the guys nervously wait for the music to start. It's a thrilling game of 'who blinks first,' and the prize is the possibility of a connection that might just lead to something more.

Tinder, on the other hand, is the wild, wild west of dating apps. It's a place where bios are short, intentions are vague, and the only requirement is a strong thumb for endless swiping. It's the app that brought the term 'swipe right for yes, swipe left for no' into the dating lexicon. With a seemingly infinite pool of potential matches, Tinder is a buffet of options where everyone's a potential catch until proven otherwise.

Now, let's talk about Aisle – the app for those who prefer their love stories served with a side of sophistication. No swiping here; it's all about making a choice after some thoughtful consideration. It's like entering a quaint bookstore where you explore the titles, read a few synopsis, and then decide which story you want to dive into. Aisle users are not in a rush; they appreciate the slow burn of a good connection.

And then there's Happn – the app that turns your daily commute into a potential romantic encounter. It's the serendipity of meeting someone whose path you've crossed, quite literally. A missed connection becomes a second chance as Happn tracks your encounters and gives you the opportunity to turn that 'what if' into a 'maybe.' It's like a romantic comedy set in the real world, with your favorite coffee shop or subway station playing a supporting role in your love story.

Now, let's take a moment to appreciate the stark contrast with matrimonial sites – the virtual meeting ground for anxious parents armed with bio-data and a checklist longer than the Great Wall of China. 

While youngsters are busy swiping right, old parents are navigating the maze of traditional matchmaking. It's a world where compatibility isn't determined by shared interests and witty banter but by horoscopes, family background, and the number of weddings attended in the past year.

In this chaotic dance of love and companionship, dating apps offer a unique blend of perils and thrills. The perils? Well, the occasional awkward encounter, the ghosting phenomenon, and the undeniable pressure of crafting the perfect bio that encapsulates your entire existence in 300 characters. The thrills? The anticipation of a new match, the excitement of a potential connection, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something beautiful.

So here's to the digital age of romance, where swipes and super likes have become the currency of connection. In a world where love is just a tap away, may your matches be plenty, your conversations be intriguing, and your dating adventures be filled with both perils and thrills. Happy swiping!

A 6-Day Blank Page Agenda with Bhutan

Bhutan happened for me because of my friend Swapna who had been to Bhutan and she would not stop raving about the good times she had there. Plus, I got the contact details of a local guide through whom I prepared a customized plan for myself. I have never enjoyed group tours with fixed itineraries so I connected with the guide and made one for myself. It’s a little more expensive this way as the overheads are on you alone. But I had saved up for this and I opted for the customized plan. Thimpu - 1 night, Punakha- 1 night, Gangtey- 2 nights, Paro- 2 nights. You can add Bhumtang if you can spare 3 to 4 more days.

It’s a small country and you have a limited area to explore. It was up to me to choose which one to visit. I included more of free time and nature walks compared to the usual routine of visiting monasteries, treks and hikes. I like seclusion, soaking in the nature and surroundings.  Bhutan is a trekkers paradise in case you love trekking. Hope you enjoy the blog.

Day 1:

The Bhutan Airlines flight that I boarded from Kolkotta landed 90 minutes later at Paro. I looked outside the window. Was I at an airport or did I land in the middle of the city? The aircraft came to a grinding halt and some time later the doors opened. Fresh cool air welcomed me and I took a deep breath. Just 20 steps away stood the airport building. A two floored white building with beautiful wooden carvings. The airport looked picturesque. I could not fathom if it was a drawing or if it was for real. The architecture bore testimony to a land of talented painters, weavers and architects.

I could have dragged my luggage out of the plane to the waiting car,it was that close. Instead, I and Sneha, my travel buddy stood there and soaked in the coolness and gulped in lungful of fresh sweet air. Far away, the snow laden mountains seemed stripped of all their snow but some still glistened in the hot sun, which for some reason seemed welcome and not hot. We walked a few steps to enter the airport and wait for our luggage. We got it exactly within 15 minutes of landing. And why not? There wasn't a fleet arriving into Bhutan at that hour of the day. I dragged my luggage from the conveyor belt and wheeled it through the exit gate. 

Kinley

Outside stood my long-haired guide – Kinley Tshering. He was dressed in ‘Gho’, the traditional Bhutanese dress for boys and men. It looked like a knee length gown with long sleeves folded at the base. Almost, all men I saw in Bhutan were dressed similarly. He draped me and Sneha with a long white satin scarf and welcomed us to his country. I moved towards my vehicle which was a comfortable Hyundai Santa Fe chauffeured by Rabgay (pronounced Rubgey) who just bowed his head in respect and I bowed back.

Rabgay

I presumed he did not understand English and thus did not speak to me. That was a delusion which I realized soon after. 

I settled myself comfortably in the car and off we went towards Thimpu, the capital city of Bhutan. Thus, began my journey – one of the most beautiful road travel I have ever done.

So I was in the car, and Kinley taught us the two essential words –

Kuzoozangpo La meaning Hello

Response is the same ;-). You just repeat it!  

And Kaadinchhey La – meaning thank you

I memorised the above and used in several times during my stay.

The never-ending roads winded up and down the hills as it took me from one place to the other. As per itinerary, I was to stay in Paro the last 2 nights of my trip, so we breezed out of Paro on way to Thimpu. We must have landed around 12pm at Paro – Bhutan is 30 minutes ahead of India. Kinley took us for lunch to a hotel where we I could not get Indian food. I opted for a grilled sandwich, french fries and sprite. Sneha felt nauseous and avoided any food. If you are prone to motion sickness, take all the precautions you may want to take. All through Bhutan the roads snake precariously up and down a few hills and valley.  

After lunch, we explored few places of interest which included the textile mills, art school, library, museums. Every place had an entry ticket and I chose to enter only a few of them. Sneha visited most of it. The Takin reserve is a must-see. One needs to trek on a moderately steep slope. I was breathless and the air tightened around my chest as I climbed up to the entry point. I decided not to go further up. That was a painful decision and I went through this pain twice again during the rest of my stay in Bhutan.

Driving through the valleys, I gazed out of the car. All I could see was deep valleys and gigantic hills. We stopped by a few places enroute and got down to click few pictures and admire the beauty. By 4pm, Kinley brought me to ‘Peaceful Resort’ for my overnight stay. Nice hotel, great amenities with 2 heaters in the room and 2 or 3 blankets, all imported from Ludhiana. Some were made from locally available Yak wool. 

Throughout my stay I enjoyed the low temperatures ranging from 5^◦C to 12^◦C. The best time to visit Bhutan is October to December. I was lucky to be here in April between the 1^st and the 7^th. I heard The temperature rose drastically after I left. Weather is unpredictable in Bhutan, like in any other hilly regions. Rains, thunder storm, sudden drop in temperatures can be expected at any point of time. I kept checking my weather app while Kinley chuckled and said – this does not work in Bhutan. The mountains decide. I smiled back – though I trusted the app, in my next seven days, I had to acknowledge that he was right.

Kinley and Rabgay left for the day after arranging for our dinner. We went down around 7pm for dinner. It was an elaborate Bhutanese dinner. Cost us 550 Nu each. Total disaster – one thing fortunately common between me and my travel buddy was that we disliked Bhutanese cuisine. 

We pleaded with our hostess for some Indian food and she brought us some Rajma which helped us gulp down some rice.  I made a mental note to inform Kinley that we would like to have Indian/ continental meals for the rest of the trip.

I was not tired though I have been travelling the whole day. It was perhaps the weather that put me to sleep that night. 

Observations on Day 1:
Bhutanese are lovely kind-hearted people
Most of them have completed school and graduated (in Bhutan or East India) and can speak excellent English. Rabgay and Kinley loved English songs as much as they loved their local ones.
I did not like Bhutanese food; lessons learnt for me. I won’t elaborate but would like you to carry some basic snacks. Stock yourself with fruits bought locally (they are expensive but organic and tasty). Add biscuits. If you are someone who could adapt yourselves to the local cuisines of Japan, China, etc. you may not face a problem here.
Tip generously. Indian currency is accepted here and the 1 NU = 1 INR. The Bhutanese girls are very strong and can carry two heavy bags at same time, effortlessly going up and down the stairs. No lifts here. No hotel is more than 2 floors. Rooms are huge and space is never an issue here.
Never lose your temper here. If anything goes wrong, tell your guide, he will sort it out. The guides and drivers follow the guidelines laid down by the tourism industry seriously. They are bound to be respectful at all times and maintain professionalism during their duty hours.
No one honks here. They wait. They let pass.

Day 2:

I woke up to a beautiful morning, as usual, at 5am. And what do I do? Nothing – there is nothing you can do as a tourist at 5am. My body clock refused to go back to sleep. I made some tea, the dip tea variety with powdered milk and missed my ‘adrak+lemongrass’ milky tea. And I missed it everytime I had tea in Bhutan. Made a mental note, to never ask for ‘localised version of life’ in my next trips. I seriously need Indian/continental food, western toilets with jet sprays. The locals may live differently and I realize on day 2 that I may have ‘issues’ with local lives, in case, they don’t match mine.

Thimpu is not so cold. I enjoyed the chill and withdrew the curtains to look at the neighbouring homes, not sure if they were hotels or homes. All structures looked the same – bright, colourful, intricate paintings of dragons, saints, flowers. If you look up from space, I guess Bhutan would look like a colourful painting dotted with high mountains and deep valleys. Vegetation, I noticed was sparse.

Kinley told me that Spring had just started and it will go green in some time but as most mountains were rocky, there were less chances of greenery on the slopes. Bhutan is rocky in a way yet a major portion of it covered by forests. According to Kinley, all the carbon dioxide produced by the country is sunk into these forests making it a carbon negative country and they have laws to preserve the forests which every Bhutanese follow with their heart. I kept gulping in pockets of fresh oxygen.

The room was heated but the washrooms were not. Using the washrooms needed one to be brave – to beat the chill. There is always a gap between the hot water and you – and trust me it makes you laugh in misery. I managed what my mother calls a “kaka-culi”. In Malayalam, it means a crow-bath. Sprinkle some water on your head, shake your body vigorously and you are done!!! I had many kak-culi’s during the rest of my trip.

I step out of my room into around 10 degrees…at first you feel the chill but then you want to enjoy it. I step a floor down to the banquet hall where am greeted by cheerful hosts. I had a continental breakfast of toast bread and butter and jam. And Lo and behold – I got Puri Bhaji too. I think I devoured 6 or 7 of those gigantic Puris. Total bliss. 

Then I set out to see more places of interest between Thimpu and Punakha where I would spend another night – this time it was a Farmhouse named Kinley farmhouse. I asked Kinley if it belonged to him and he said – every second person in Bhutan would be a Kinley as a result of a new born child being taken to the Fertility temple in Punakha. I will come to this story soon. Thimpu to Punakha is 2.5 hours and we visited a few places enroute.

The first place Kinley took me is to see the gigantic Buddha Dordenma Statue. 54 meters in height. They began building this is 2006 and finished it in 2015. I did not want to leave this place. The statue was tall, sitting calmly on a cliff and I managed to climb the slope with whatever less incline it had…thankfully. One can see it from any part of Thimpu. Its golden and beautiful and overlooks the entire country. I term it as heaven and I can stay here for the rest of my life (conditions apply).

Built for peace around the world, this statue also commemorates the 60^th anniversary of their 4^th king. Like I said earlier, the Bhutanese love their kings. The past, present and future. In every home, car, hotel, you will see family portraits of all kings with their families. These photographs are kept next to their own family photographs. The fourth king has four wives who are sisters. Polygamy is legal and all live peacefully. They have no Ramayana there. The current king’s mother is the third sister and the other three sisters have not hatched a plot to abdicate the current king – so far! 

After spending an hour, admiring the beauty of the structure plus the surroundings, Kinley suggested it was time to leave and so I had to leave reluctantly. Since we were one of the first visitors to come here, I could see hordes of tourist pouring in and I was glad I came early.

Next Kinley took me to Dochu-La Pass. In Bhutan all forts, monasteries, temples are built in memory of their kings, queens, religious saints, etc. Dochula pass has a similar story. Kinley would never tire of reciting these stories. Whenever we would reach a place, he would start with – “This is the …..it was built in memory of ……” and on and on he would go. Images of kings, queen mothers and gurus/saints can be seen in all monuments. At times, I would nod my head in acknowledgement to his stories but most times my mind would wander into the makings of these beautiful monuments.

It’s a must visit place and no one should miss it. The Saptagiri mountain peaks can be seen from here, though some of it were covered by clouds, and a few others glistened with snow. The temperature was around 12 and I chose not to wear my jacket. I soaked in the beautiful climate and reminded myself – this is what you came in here for. I wanted the world to stop moving. Freeze the moment for eternity. At the Dochula pass, I also got to see the mountain dogs, huge, furry, they roamed around with an air of authority…some basked in the sunlight. Lucky Bhutanese dogs….

Bhutan has never been colonised in history! A small country who could have been easily overpowered by the big countries surrounding it, this never happened to them. Ruled by kings since its origin, only in 2008 did the 4^th king foresee the need to have a constitutional monarchy. I found the story as recited to me by Kinley very interesting though I am not fond of history. It's heartening to know that the monarchy would like to dilute his power by heralding in democracy. And in a rightful manner too. In a country where the citizens worship their kings and are skeptical of heralding in democracy the kings relentlessly educates them on the advantages of democracy. I have fallen in love with the 4th King and the current present king too. I was lucky to see one of the Queen mothers pass by during one of my road trips. The locals stood still and kept their heads bowed down in respect. So did I but kept my head slightly tilted to catch a glimpse of her.  I barely succeeded. 

After Dochula Pass, we drove to the Punakha. Punakha is one of the warmer places in Bhutan and temperature would be around 10 degrees late night and around 12 to 14 in day time. Kinley warned me that there would be no heaters in the Punakha home but assured me I won’t need one and he was right. I warned Kinley that I need to have lunch at a place offering Indian food. He was kind enough to find that for me. Post lunch as we continued on our journey and we passed by Punakha Dzong. Dzong means Fort and there are a few majestic Dzongs in Bhutan. This is the second largest Dzong, elegantly designed and currently the administrative centre in Punakha district. Even the 4^th and 5^th King got married in this Dzong . For me, this is the first time I saw something this royal. I could not wait for the next day when I would be inside the Dzong . This Dzong is built on the confluence of 2 rivers - The Po Chu and Mo Chu rivers.

These rivers flow into Punakha, converge with another river and finally flow into Assam, from where it flows into the Brahmaputra. Chu meant river and Po stood for father and Mo stood for Mother. I asked Kinley– how do you define the gender of a river? Kinley explained – the Po Chu is wild and flows fiercely and Mo Chu is calm and flows gently. True or False – I loved his version. In fact. I loved all of his stories. There is also a suspension bridge here that’s a must visit.

We continued our journey. Kinley was a chatterbox and continuously kept talking about something related with Bhutan. At times, we listened to music. At times, I tried to pry a few words out from Rabgay. Rabgay spoke less but he spoke excellent English. I understood from him that he is both a driver and a guide. On my trip, he was a driver but in the next one he was the guide and he would have another driver to assist him. The gho he was wearing costed something around 7000 Nu. According to him, the quality of the textiles used to make the gho determines the price of the gho. So, one can find different price ranges for this national attire. If you choose a low priced gho, one would mistake you as belonging to a poor family so most of them choose the ghos to keep with their image in the society. Imagine us, wearing discounted tops for INR 199????? Very low class, are you?

Finally, I reached the Kinley Farmhouse. Nestled between several other similar cottages, there were fields where the villagers were tending to the plants. Since it was spring, the plants had just begun to sprung but we did see some patches of cabbage, radish, potatoes, etc. An old guy with a wrinkled but grinning face gestured all of us to enter the home. He was dressed in gho and it looked to be of a cheaper quality as compared to Rabgays. But this old chap was so rich in his heart. He was a warm, polite and an entertaining host. He knew a smattering of Hindi and told me  tales of his visit to Delhi when he was a youngster. He offered us tea and apologised for the absence of his wife who had gone to the market. I smiled at him and said – no problem Kaadhinchey La.

It was a two-floored cottage and my room was cosy. The mattresses were fluffy and as good as those you find in hotels. This was my first farmhouse stay and I would advise you to think of the pros and cons of staying in a farmhouse on your trip to Bhutan. In a hotel, you may find a cook who knows how to prepare continental or Indian food – in a farm house you will need to have Bhutanese food or prepare your own if they allow/ have ingredients. In a farmhouse, you may not find a room with an attached bath and if you are like me, you will consider it inconvenience number 1.

Plus points – loving people. You get to know about their lives, first-hand. It overshadowed my inconveniences. I loved talking to the family – where only the husband knew a smattering of Hindi. Gestures, dumb charades and smiles would reveal a lot and I got by with that. They offered us Ara – a local wine made in most homes. In Bhutan, everyone drinks Ara and everyone chews paan all the time. I had 2 drops of the Ara – it was strong, very strong and passed on the rest to the driver – Rabgay as Kinley was a teetotaller. 

They offered rice and cheese chilli paste for dinner but knowing that Indian dinner was available around the corner, I opted for Indian food. That night, again I had Indian food. Though I have mentioned I had Indian food, I must add that all of it tasted close to Indian. Just like sambhar made by the Gujratis where they add a little bit of sugar to delight their palate. So it was Bhutan style Indian food but I still preferred it over Bhutanese food. For all of you who are like me, picky about Indian food, you can survive or scrambled eggs, toast butter, biscuits and fruits. Their staple diet is rice (white and red both are available) and cheese chilli paste. The cheese, oil and butter had a different odour and this prevented me from embracing any of their dishes

Day 3 -

Next morning, when I stepped into their kitchen and offered to make French toast for all, the lady of the house seemed eager. I gestured for everything I needed and got all of it except for pepper. Image of pepper via google search did not help either as the lady of the house shook her head gesturing she did not know what it meant. 

Later I got Kinley to explain to her and she giggled and got pepper from the pantry. Language issues. We all had a hearty laugh and that morning I prepared French toast and scrambled eggs without pepper to all. The family had 5 children, ages ranging from 25 to 10. One of their elder son was working in Australia in the hotel industry. Three of the elder children were working in hotels as housekeeping and as tourist guides. Tourism is the largest income generator for these families and the average salary of most of them would be approximately 3 to 4 lakhs if they were working in Bhutan. Hence, a lot of youngsters have migrated in search of work abroad including India.

After breakfast, I went for a stroll in the village – of course with Kinley. The village was dotted by small shops selling artefacts, fabrics and some unmentionable things that were offerings of the fertility temple. I ignored the entire section though I took some pictures to show back home. 

From the other sections, I picked up various souvenirs. I also picked up a Bhutanese skirt the Kira – the national dress for women and girls. I had the option to shop in Paro which would be on my last day here but I so much fell in love with the kira here that I bought it then and there. 

Post that, I went back to the farmhouse, freshened up with my kaka-culi and paid a visit to the fertility temple. I won’t write another word about it because to me – it’s a temple for fools. Apologies in advance if I am hurting anyone’s religious sentiments. I also would like to mention that all homes in Punakha and most parts of Bhutan adorn the walls of their homes with paintings that symbolises the beliefs of the fertility temple. And it’s an extremely gory sight- amidst the beautiful colours and drawings - the fertility temple symbols standout like a thorny cactus – pun intended. 

After a brief stopover at the Fertility temple, it was time to check out Punakha Dzong. We drove back the same way we came and reached the Dzong. On way, we had Indian lunch. I bought my entry ticket – Kinley could enter for free. Kinley later told me that everyone has to wear the national dress which is the gho for men and kira for the women in every other office, school, hospital, everywhere. As groups of tourists accompanied by their guides entered the Dzong, I could see each group being told a story by their guide about the Dzong. Let your guide tell you the story for they infuse life in the characters they speak about. I term this place as a must see. If you see one Dzong, the other would be more or less similar so if you have to make a choice of seeing just 1 Dzong, don’t miss on Punakha Dzong– its majestically beautiful. This ended my tryst with Punakha and I proceeded to Gangtey - a U shaped glacial valley.

Gangtey Farmhouse

Its better known as the Phobjika valley and Gangtey is a small town in this district. The best time to visit this place is October, November and December. The black necked crane flocks here to roost and they even have a national festival to celebrate their visit. A photographer’s delight assure you visit Gangtey.

It was 5pm by the time I reached Gangtey. One cannot speed here because most of the roads are winding up and down, not all roads are concretised and they are not very wide either. I had again booked into a farmhouse and to my joy the farmhouse had an attached bath. I made sure Kinley checked that prior to my arrival. The farmhouse was all carved out of wood – top to bottom. I could not find metal anywhere except may be at the hinges of the door. It had 6 to 8 rooms but only my room was occupied. Some guests were expected the next day.

There was nothing much to do in Gangtey so I was not in a rush. I walked around a bit. I informed Kinley and went out for a long walk. I headed towards a group of teenage boys who were performing stunts on mountain bicycles and they seemed to be having fun. They would peddle the bike hard on a slope and pull the bike up on its rear end and slide back down. Scores of boys were repeatedly following the same process and laughing at their neat performances. A few of them tried to throw their friends off-balance. Some succeeded while most did not.

I could also see some resorts that offered accommodation in an open ground in huge white tents. A group of Europeans, about 50 of them had camped there. They were getting ready to go on a bike ride. On checking with them, I learnt they had come from Italy on an adventure trip that included hiking, biking, river rafting and difficult treks.  They then headed over to the boys to get onto to their bikes. It’s then that I realised that the boys were not having fun but were checking the bikes before handing it to the tourists.

As I walked further, I noticed I was following a path of running stream water, crystal clear water. I had noticed such stream all over Bhutan. At first, I thought it was drainage but the clarity of the water demonstrated it was not. I also noticed prayer wheels on the sides of roads and the water from these streams churned the prayer wheels continuously. Rabgay told me that these hydro prayer wheels are built by certain families or communities when their chief priests ask them to do so to ward off evil and bring in good luck for the entire family. The location is chosen by the priests and these are usually built across the length of these flowing streams.

After a long walk, I returned to the room. As the sun set, it became super chilly and I could not muster the courage to step out of the room.  

I peeped outside, it was beautiful. Grey clouds streaked with silver threatened to darken the skies. The vast landscape was dotted with small cottages. I wanted to stay out but the chill prevented me from doing that. Hot water was available round the clock and I managed to have a mini kaka-culi. It’s like a 1/10^th version of a proper shower. I got inside the blankets – 3 blankets and enjoyed the cozy feeling. I called Kinley and asked him to tell the host that I would have dinner in my room and asked him to check the menu. That’s when he gave me the good news that they can serve rice and aloo sabji. I felt lucky and ordered the same. It did not taste like home food, but I survived. After dinner, I slept off like a baby.

Day 4

I woke up at 5am. My body clock refused to let me sleep even though I was on vacation. So, as usual, I tried to go back to sleep and failed miserably. Brushing my teeth at this hour looked like a task that required a lot of courage. I tested myself. I peeled off the first layer of the blanket, nothing happened, then the second, again nothing happened. Peeling off the last layer, my feet touched the wooden floor -ouch…it was chilly. I pulled my feet up and looked outside the window. It must have been 6am but it was as bright. I found my room slippers and walked towards the window.

A big black mountain dog was curled right below my window and was basking in the sunlight. An old lady was churning the huge wooden prayer wheel at a distance. I decided to get over my chill fear and go out into the brightly lit day. The washroom had no heater and was in deep freeze mode. I turned on the tap…..chilled water…I let it flow until  hot water streamed out of it. I brushed as quickly as I could and dressed in layers and a shawl covering my ears and head. I walked through the cold wooden corridors into the bright sunlight. The black dog looked up, scanned me for a while and soon realised I did not have anything for him and went back to sleep. I walked around. Walking made me feel warm. I stripped off the shawl and walked towards the dining area. New guests were coming. Two old Gujrati couples. We smiled at each other and I walked ahead. 

Bukhari

I saw the hostess and told her I want tea. She asked me to wait by the Bukhari which I thoroughly enjoyed. The dining room was warm and cosy and I soon got my cup of hot tea. Bukharis are like a large drum with a hole in the centre. It is usually placed in the centre of a room. In the centre, logs of wood burn bright orange and yellow flames. On top of the bukhari is a large vessel filled with hot water throughout the day. More logs are put into the bukhari and it burns bright enough to keep everyone in the room warm. People gather around the bukhari, chat and recount the day’s events. They drink hot water, tea or Ara while they do so.

                                                                                 

I had opted for a restful stay at Gangtey and that’s what was in my itinerary for the rest of the day.  After tea and interacting with the Gujrati couple, I learnt they had brought a lot of food stuff back from home – khakhra, sev, pickles, bhakris and theplas. They chose not to eat the hotel food because they saw the hostess boiling some eggs. They had tea and toast bread and butter. I had the same, plenty of it. I had to hold the butter near the bukhari for a while before I could spread it. Then I had scrambled eggs. Throughout my stay I was completely put off by the odour that this ruined my dining experience throughout. The butter looked like butter and the oil had Soyabean or Rice Bran written on it but it was ‘different’ in a manner I cant define.

After breakfast, I visited the Gangtey Monastery and Kinley described the story in detail. Kinley, being the excellent guide, kept going on and on about the history of the temple. I remember none of it though. Not my fault, as the names of the kings, queens and priests are quite difficult for a foreign national to comprehend. For those who like to hike/trek, there is a long winding path from this monastery. It takes about 2 to 3 hours to come to the other end of the trail. Sneha opted for the trail and off she went with Kinley. I and Rabgay drove 30 minutes around a cliff and waited for them on the other side. I had two hours to kill and I set out for along walk. Though I can’t claim to have seen all of Bhutan, Gantey is the most scenic. I explored the valley, stood by the side of the road and watched the locals go about their daily lives. Most of them walk a lot.

Homes are scattered far and wide and daily amenities needs to be stocked. It’s not only a primitive village (though everyone has internet and television) but in case of health emergencies, help would be at least an hour away. These are my assumptions as I did not see clinics, medical stores or hospitals all over the place. They were far away in the main townships. In the villages there would be one or two general shops and they have everything that is required locally. I saw grocery packets, confectionaries, clothes and sim cards being sold in the same shop.

 The valley is vast and dotted with pastures, hills and wooden cottages, big and small. Herds of Yak were grazing on these slopes. At times, I felt I was at the bottom of a cup rising my face to look up to the snow-clad mountains and at times I felt I was sitting on the rim of the cup and looking at the bottom of the valley. I could walk, stop, walk, sleep on the grass and have a blank page agenda for the day. That is what I term total bliss. A holiday with a blank page agenda.

I came back for lunch though I was not hungry due to the heavy breakfast. I again opted for dal and rice. I rested for a while and looked forward to a massage I had planned for later in the evening. Dinner was at a nearby Indian restaurant and I opted for Puri bhaji as that was the best thing I ate in Bhutan in the name of Indian food.

  

Day 5

Today was a long road drive back from Gangtey to Paro.  I would be traversing the entire path right back to Paro. It would take me 7 hours with all the stops I make along the way. For those who get bothered by motion sickness, this would be a challenge. Suggest you take the necessary medication, eat light and carry disposable pouches. I had a beautiful time as I crossed the Punakha Dzong and Dochula pass once again. I got down at Dochula pass for refreshments. Apart from the monuments and peaks you can see from here, I was in absolute love with the 30 odd dogs that roamed around here. They were huge and majestic and looked extremely fierce to me.

They did come to me for scraps and I shared some momos with them. Surprisingly, the dogs are also peaceful – they did not growl at each other for the scraps. Each one ate what they got and the rest just moved away.

By evening, I reached Paro and we made a halt in a lane which was about half a kilometre long. This seemed to be a shopper’s paradise and also had restaurants serving Indian food. I purchased yum looking croissants – unfortunately the odour hit me as it was warmed and I had to share it with the dogs. I lost my appetite and packed Idli sambhar for dinner. My stay again was in a farmhouse and I did not want to risk a Bhutanese dinner. I bought some souvenirs here for my friends back home.

Within a couple of hours, we realised staying here for 2 nights would be a pain. The hostess was aloof and was distracted in the service of an European couple. When a tourist (except for Indians, Bangladeshis and Sri Lankans) enters Bhutan, they have to spend a minimum amount of 250 dollars per day. My current hostess had an European guest and inevitably I was not so important to her. I checked with my tour operator for a transfer and she was kind enough to shift me into a hotel the next morning.

We woke up early because Sneha along with Kinley was trekking up to Tiger’s nest.  I was tempted to join her but I was not ready. With the breathing problems I faced during the journey, I did not want to be an obstacle in their trek. Tiger’s Nest has no Tigers.

Google out for more information but this is any trekkers dream route. An average trekker takes up to 7 hours. The earlier you start, the better. I and Rabgay dropped them at the base of the Tier’s Nest. We came back to the farmhouse and waited until 9 to shift to another hotel nearby – Deewanchen Resort. 

Deewanchen means peace and the resort was one of the most beautiful properties I stayed in. I would advise all of you to book into hotels and not farmhouses. Deewanchen had Indian food and they were ready to take my order of Chicken Biryani around 10. I was not expecting Sneha until 2pm and I asked the kitchen staff to deliver my food as soon as it was ready. I had not eaten well the previous night and I felt ravenous. I decided to shower – it was the same story everytime. Except for the water, anything you touch was super chilled. Somehow, I showered and got ready to eat.

It was around 11.30 and Sneha called saying she has reached the top and now was on her way back! Sneha was fast – she was better than an average trekker and that left both Kinley and Ragbay impressed. I called up the kitchen again and asked them to hold on to the Biryani. I ordered another lunch for Sneha and went to meet her at the base of Tiger’s Nest. She completed the trek in approximately 5 hours.

We both came back and the lunch was waiting. We ate our lunch in silence- I was hungry, Sneha was tired. Post lunch, Sneha rested while I went out onto the balcony which had a very beautiful view. Outside, it was chilly but I soaked it all in. It was my last day in Paro and I knew I will miss these were priceless moments. All I did in Bhutan was to immerse myself in the nature and weather.

Sneha slept off and I did not disturb her. I went out. As this was a resort, I could not meet any locals here. I went into the dining area where the bukhari was burning bright. Few people had crowded around the fire. I joined them. There were few Indians but the others were either from Europe of the USA. Along with their guides, they were discussing about their trek the next day. The guides were arranging for oxygen tanks for the trip and since Kinley had told me that mountaineering was banned in Bhutan I was puzzled. On questioning them, I learnt that they were going to go on the Laya Gasa Trek and though mountaineering is banned on peaks above 6000 meters, there are several smaller hills that can be trekked upon and is quiet daunting. 

The Bhutanese believe that their mountains are spiritual and it should not be tainted by allowing mountaineers or anyone else to climb and conquer them. Therefore, Gangkhar Puensum at 75740 meters has attained the title of the highest unclimbed peak in the world and will perhaps remain so forever.

 By the end of the trip, I was eager to get back home to my adrak waali chai and my curd rice and sambhar but I was equally dismayed to leave. The visa clearly mentioned 7^th April exit Bhutan and that’s what I did.

Kinley and Rabgay promised to stay in touch and so did I. But we all know, we just move on. These two have been of great help while I was writing this blog. I texted them several times to get some facts I missed noting down. Hope each one of you loved reading this. You can add your comments in the comment section if you need more information for your intended trip to Bhutan.

Andamans and Me

Me and water, there is something enigmatic, a bond that is as scary as alluring. Alluring for the amazing sound of the waves hitting the shores, the wind buzzing with gay abandon and pristine beaches with aqua blue-green water, a reflection of the skies above. Scary for the power it has to devastate. So when Divya casually messaged if I wanted to join them for a trip to the Andamans she had no clue that I have been dreaming Bali for over a year and this was the closest I came to achieving it. I said yes, am coming, just let me check about my leaves. Within 2 days, my leave was in place and the tickets were in a folder neatly tilted Andamans.

25th May 2018: 

Day 1
There were 6 of us – Divya and Rajiv, Jayston and Devina, myself and 10 year old Advait. We decided to take independent cabs to the airport. I reached first and waited for others near the boarding gate. The others reached after me but unlike me they spent an hour window shopping and enjoying scrumptious cuisines at T2.Glad they did because they bought Cluedo – a board game that thrilled us as much as the outdoor thrills but more on that later. 

We boarded an 8.40am flight to Chennai with a layover of nearly 4 hours and a 12.15 pm from Chennai to Port Blair. Yes, though Port Blair is only approximately 5 hours from Mumbai airport, there aren’t any direct flight to Port Blair. So it is either a layover at Kolkatta or Chennai. With baggage’s checked in we had ample time to laze on the lounge chairs and just chit chat. In retrospect, I think we were quiet naïve and had no clue to the wonders we were about to be exposed to in the next few days.

On way, we were individually engrossed in our own time pass activities – I was watching a movie, Advait was excited about a cockatoo he would soon be buying, Rajiv and Divya seemed to say Yes to it with conditions that actually meant a No, Devina and Jayston were engrossed with each other and as I did not spy on them, don’t know what they were talking of!!! Suddenly, the plane shuddered and swayed for a good 30 to 40 seconds like never before in my lifetime and I would like to say that it was the first surreal experience of the trip. There was no warning from the pilot which came soon after the shudder and scores of people yelling out a “whooooaaaa” mid-air. Some started praying too. This made me believe that it was a ‘never before’ cumulative experience for all. The pilot warned of bad weather and asked all to remain seated and belted. Jayston later told us that Devina had dug all her nails into his arm though there were no scars to prove that though. Post that, we only wanted to get off the plane and we did that soon after. The breath-taking view of the thickly populated green mountains and islands all around us and the still calm waters soothed our minds and we let the fear be bygones. We landed at 2.35pm at Port Blair and walked out of the small airport and breathed the first whiff of pure air…damp but sweet, light drizzle and a strong breeze that was more than welcome. Divya, being the organiser of this tour had called up the tour manager and connected with our guide. From then on we were in safe hands. 

Consider the next para as the ‘mantra’ to enjoy your trip. Stay away from your handset. 

I looked at my phone – it said no network – I wasted a few minutes trying to get connected then gave up – I had been forewarned – Andamans has NO NETWORK except for BSNL, a little bit of Vodafone and Airtel. Rest all be damned J. Let me put the expectations right – no network means just that NO NETWORK and HAVING NETWORK means – YOU CAN SEE YOUR EMAIL, READ THE FIRST LINE BUT CANT OPEN IT (enticing you to an extent where you can go crazy). Videos cannot be downloaded or sent – the definition of being connected is a lot different. I believe the iconic Vodafone Pug is a mixed breed while at Andamans. This happened to all the ‘Apple-ites’ in the group. My SAMSUNG worked fine with WiFi though IDEA had no IDEA how to start itself on the island. So I was completely dependent on the hotel WiFi and most hotels allowed WiFi only in the lobby so I would be more seen in the lobby than in my room.
A typical scenario at any reception counter was as under:
Guest: Hello, we have a room booked under the name….(the usual stuff)
Host: Welcome sir/madam. Can you kindly take a seat while we complete the check in process? Please hand me your IDs.
Guest: Here are our IDs. Can you please give me the Wi-Fi password?
While the above conversation is going on, you can see the entire brood including spouse, kids, and grandparents fiddling with their cell phones trying to infuse life into it.
The outcome of all the drama is the same. Its either NO NETWORK or HAVING NETWORK as described above. And sometimes, its restricted to the lobby area as mentioned earlier but then that’s just fine because the entire island is beautiful, every property is beautiful and aesthetically done up in décor – indoors as well as outdoors. The gardens are neat, clean and well-manicured, the pools are open and lovely and not a single leaf floating given the foliage and breeze around.
So we checked in with speed and rushed out precisely in that manner as we planned to visit the cellular jail where countless freedom fighters were imprisoned and tortured. Veer Savarkar being one of them. I won’t write much about him nor the cellular jail because all of you can google the same, if interested.
Must read: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cellular_Jail
I will write about what happened to me there. It was drizzling intermittently and all of us were enjoying the first drizzle of the season. We walked all over the property fooling by locking ourselves in the open cells, taking pictures of the never ending corridors, visiting the hangman’s chambers, etc. I was mesmerised by the idea of a jail being constructed just for torturing freedom fighters. Ten years to build a torture cell with bricks brought from Burma on an island that took days to reach from the nearest port!!! One must applaud the government for having done a good job at maintaining the heritage structure and even organising a light and sound show where an audio plays out several acts that happened within the jail in those times. It’s a beautiful sight and the story-telling is amazing. As the story was being told, I felt goose bumps. I must add that I was depressed at that moment and though I am proud of our freedom fighters I wanted to leave the show mid-way but my friends insisted we stay put. Am glad we stayed till the end. It was the most patriotic moment of my life, I wanted to be a part of them or hide somewhere and bomb the Britishers and save our people and this was something that not even singing the National Anthem or reading out the pledge ever evoked in me.
What goes round comes around – the island was invaded by the Japanese in 1942 and became home for the British prisoners until 1945 when the British reclaimed what was theirs. And then we reclaimed what was ours in 1947 and the rest is history.
I must add a handful of people in the crowd did say they got bored. I attribute this to the fact that they were comparing it to the Sci-Fi shows that they were so used to watching in the multiplexes around them. So I will let them be there and say that but that’s not what it is.
Thankfully, it was the only visit scheduled for the day and we were back in our rooms, to freshen up, have a sumptuous dinner and sleep early. Day 2 was going to be at Havelock – paradise on Earth.
My observations on Day 1: Local-ites are down to earth, honest to the core, extremely safe for single women travellers. Food is multi-cuisine and they do not have any local dishes to boast of. I will mention places to eat at the end of the blog and trust me you will have a wonderful stay. I think these are the basics that makes travel to any part of the world delightful.
I would list down our entire itinerary, along with hotel details at the end of this blog so that you can schedule a trip for yourself and enjoy the virgin beauty of the island before they get commercialised and become another tourist hotspot.

Day 2 - Andamans
Once again we shoved inside whatever we had taken out the previous day, repacked our bags and checked out. Today our destination was Havelock, nearly 70kms from Port Blair. The only way to get there is through jetty. We were booked to travel via Makruzz. I fell in love with the majestic white catamaran ferry. We all lined up for selfies – I managed to get a few good ones. A trillion thanks to Jayston D'souza who is any girl’s bestie (sorryDevina Dsouza) when it comes to taking pics. This man never tires of clicking pics of himself, others, nature, anything and everything. He is a walking talking photo studio. Thank you Jayston – next trip I promise to share some of the camera bag load…sacchi mucchi wala promise. 
Our seats were amazing, the water outside was calm and the waves looked tiny to even ruffle the majestic beast. I felt so powerful. As mentioned earlier, I love the sea as much as I fear it. But Makruzz made me feel potent. It was a 90 minute ride and we settled comfortably in our seats. I wished the catamaran was not air conditioned but considering the speed of around 20 odd nautical miles at which it was travelling, it would be impossible to allow passengers on deck. Am sure small kids and zero size individuals would find it difficult to hold onto the catamaran. This was also the downside as I would have loved to be on deck, perhaps in a slower cruise liner, soaking in the breeze and sunlight…but alas for now it remains a desire unfulfilled.
I did say that the local people are honest and simple folks, didn’t I? But I had zero trust on my fellow passengers and was worried about my baggage. I have never understood how the authorities handle the baggage transport. Unlike airports where your baggage gets tagged with your name, here you just shove it to a Makruzz employee’s hand who further dumps it into their luggage compartment. On docking, they shove out everything and assemble it within a certain circumference on the platform. Every passenger goes and picks up their individual bags. What if someone took my bag?? I and Jayston rushed out as only we two seemed to be concerned with this issue!!! We managed to salvage some of our baggage and the others sauntered out leisurely to salvage the rest. Again, Divya Jagannath coordinated (she had to – she was a privileged Vodafone client whose cell worked!!!) and got us in touch with our tour manager at Havelock and again we all ambled into another beautiful property. The same routine followed – check into rooms – procure WiFi passwords!!! We were famished so after a shower we all had lunch. A visit to Radhanagar beach was planned around 4pm. Andamans has an early sunrise (around 4.30am) and an early sunset (around 4.30pm) so we planned to catch the sunset. You can google Radhanagar beach to know more about this place. 
As far as you can see it’s only the sea…frothy waves inviting you to touch them as they start and swim with them till they collapse. I wish I was a fish
Wow, that rhymed! 
I think I have enough bank balance to build a hut and stay here forever. Since that may not be allowed I decided to enjoy the moment. If you have fellow travellers the way I had, there is nothing else you could ask for. Not only did I have a great time playing and teasing the waves but Jayston has captured all of it for posterity. And I am going to relive the moments again and again. 
Unfortunately, we could not see the sunset as it was cloudy and by 6pm it was pitch dark. We were wet as much with salty water as from the rain. Our driver had warned us that he would not allow us to sit in the car if we were wet so we had to change. We would have preferred changing at the hotel as the changing and shower rooms here was pathetic. The men went behind the tress to change and we managed to find pathetic cubicles (read stinking shower rooms/toilets with no water) with a door to slide out of our swim wear and change into dry clothes. There was sand all over me and I left the hotel shower with small mound of it which eventually went back to Earth. 
This was followed by dinner. We decided to skip the hotel dinner and went to a local restaurant (names of all hotels I recommend would be the last on this blog – for easy reference). The ambience floored us, the courteous owner, the staff and finally the food made us happy souls. This was our second a la carte ordering event and we realized something which stayed with us till we left the island. The menu may have a list of 20 odd things under various categories. It’s a waste of time to go through all of it, build an appetite around it and then get to know that the dish is not available as some of the ingredients have not reached the island due to ferries being cancelled due to unpleasant weather. Just ask whats available and order...easy peasy. So the weather rules everything here. Most of things are ferried from Port Blair which in turn gets things from major cities all around India. I saw a Havells fan in one of the restaurant and made a note to tell this to one of my friends in Mumbai. Havells should be having a great sales person to sell fans to breezy restaurants!!!
Post dinner we returned to our rooms (me was in lobby area) and then we all slept. We were all excited about day 3…it was Scuba diving early morning at 6 and evening it would be Elephant beach – the epicentre of water sports. (google it for more info please). Advait (Aadi) Rajiv Pillaiwas super excited but there was also the fear of salt water crocodiles haunting him. He tried to mask it but I could see through him…

Day 3

Dot 5am, everyone was awake (or we thought so). Apparently, the fishes are very active early morning so the guide had suggested we reach as early as possible. The scuba diving centre was a couple of kms away from where we were staying and we quickly huddled our sleepy selves into the waiting cars. We reached there before we were fully awake and trundled towards a cabin near the water.

We were 6 of us and only 3 could get into the early morning slot. Another family beat us and were already in the water. Since the scuba diving would be shot underwater, we decided Rajiv, Divya and Adi go in first as they would then have a family video. I, Jayston and Devina waited for the next slot….which we later realised was 90 minutes away.

These 3 looked smart in their diving costumes and I could not wait to get into mine. The wait was exceedingly torturous for we were hungry and the tea stall was not yet operational. Finally our turn arrived, we slipped into our costumes and I loved it so much I could steal it. We trudged towards the water. Adi was the first one walking towards the shore.

How was it Adi?

The young boy was smiling and replied ‘Nice’ but he seemed to be in a hurry to get out of water. I guess the fear of the salt water crocodiles which he so often must have seen on television was haunting him. Till date, he denies this fear.

We were greeted by Vishal, our diving instructor. Each one of us would be chaperoned underwater. Breathing techniques were taught and we were made to practise for a few minutes. There were just three simple rules to be followed and 2 sign language to be learnt:

1.       Stop breathing through the nose, use mouth

2.       If water collects inside the mask near the nose, press the centre point of the mask, just above the nose to release the water

3.       Blow out of the ear time and against release pressure

4.       Sign language – one for OK and one for not OK…take me UP.

Cake walk, isn’t it?

Then began one of the most amazing next 30 minutes of my life. Vishal chaperoned me, took me deeper into the waters and released air from the cylinder on my back. I sunk! So did he!

The world under is so beautiful, especially since mankind has been unable to mess it up. Spell bound I was observing every coral, little colourful fishes playing hide and seek in the corals. And when you are watching something so beautiful you forget to breathe. You are awestruck! Now that is where I messed up! I got low of oxygen, felt suffocated and wanted to breathe and I did – through my nose!!! Not my fault – that’s what I have done since I was born. I signalled the UP sign and Vishal neatly took me to the surface. He spoke encouragingly and asked me to be more disciplined and breathe through the mouth as instructed earlier. I practised that a few more times and down we went once again…there are not enough words to express how beautiful and surreal it s down there. Admiring the beauty was one task and breathing like a fish was another …photo graphs and videos were being taken which we could relish for the rest of our lifetime. If any of you take this trip – I have only one word of caution – please do not pose the way those guys ask you to pose. Every pic of mine looks as if I am doing a bharatnatyam gesture with my hand. Just be casual and ignore their advice at least on this front!

We returned to the hotel and as we were ravenously hungry we had a hearty meal. After a 2-hour rest all were once again back to the lobby (the wifi area). We had eyed some ducks quacking outside the hotel where we stayed and wondered if we could relish some duck meat. The restaurant manager assured us he will try it for the next day as he will have to send someone to the market the next morning. We readily agreed and decided to build an appetite for lunch the next day.

We were scheduled to go snorkelling and engage in other water sports in the evening, however cyclonic winds had forced the authorities to close all water activities. That meant a free evening. It was raining lightly with a windy breeze and I wanted to enjoy every bit of the wet weather. I and Adi decided to enjoy ourselves in the pool and the others satisfied the adventure streak in them by renting scooters and zipping away to another beach called the kala pathhar, a few miles away.

By 6pm, it was dark which denoted the end of the day. We returned for more food, had dinner and went back to our rooms.

Day 4:

We did not have anything on the agenda. It was a relax day. During breakfast we had enquired about the duck and the restaurant manager assured us his guy is doing his best to procure one of it. With foodies for company, an impending feast is something that consumes a lot of energy either talking about it or of some past experiences. This was the time, we decided to open the board game we bought at the airport – Cleudo. Jayston painstakingly opened the package, read instructions and everyone else listened. Within minutes, it became complicated to listen and listen and listen. Rajiv slipped away at the start on some pretence and never returned. Everyone wanted to start playing and follow rule one by one. Jayston refused this modus operandi. He read to the last T, absorbed the information and then we started playing. His meticulousness rewarded him as he started making the right guesses. That hooked us. One game of Cluedo can take hours to finish and keep you glued to it. Various permutations and combinations can help a sharp mind decipher the truth within 20 to 30 guesses. Our genius friend, Mr. Jayston proved to be the brainiest guy in the game. The game was addictive and filled up all our free hours during the rest of the trip. I, Devina, Jayston and Divya had a whale of a time.

Sadly, the duck was not on our plate for lunch. The restaurant manager once again promised us he would try and ‘procure’ it for dinner. We once again had something to dream about till dinner. The group decided that as this was our last day at Havelock we might once again go to Kala Pathar, a place where Adi and I had not been the other day. It is a continuation of Beach no 5 and is long stretch of white silky sand with big black rocks beside the blue sea. Endless stretches of white sand with mangroves adorn as far as you can see. Apart from such a beautiful view of nature, the few manmade things you can find here are a couple of souvenir shops, a tea shop, one coconut water stall, few large plastic dustbins and a bus stop. The skyline was turning dark and we decided to head back home as soon as possible. The sight of a bus rattling down attracted me and Divya to board the bus and the others followed on their scooters. The bus had no stops to make and rattled downhill at top speed. Few low hanging branches played drums on the rooftop at first jostling us but then we became used to it. Very soon all of us were back in the hotel and the duck was still on our minds as we kept seeing flocks of ducks quacking outside the hotel. We kept wondering why one of them could not be snatched away.

The duck eluded us once again. The restaurant manager apologised his inability in procuring one. I asked him if I could go to the house outside the hotel and ask them to sell us one of their ducks.

No one will sell maam, this is the breeding season.

Aha, that’s the catch. That’s why procuring a duck was so hard. But he could have told this to us the previous day. To hear such a reason after building up an appetite for more than 36 hours was a real torture.

After dinner, we once again rushed to our rooms – not to sleep but Cleudo calling!!

Day 5: As per itinerary, after breakfast we would leave Havelock and leave for the beautiful island of Neil. However, the weather Gods did not allow that and all ferries to Neil were cancelled. Only those who had flights to catch from Port Blair were transferred from Havelock and Neil. As a precautionary measure, other ferries were cancelled. We were disappointed we could not go to Neil but we loved the extended stay at Havelock. Our guide had asked us to be ready to leave the moment he calls and informs us about procuring a seat for in any ferry that left the island. The idea was to leave for Port Blair and be safe in a hotel 15 minutes from the airport as getting marooned in the island was a high probability with the weather acting the way it was. We packed and waited in the lobby and we enjoyed the wait as we had Cleudo for company. Around 1, we got a call from the guide and 2 cars were at the gate in no time. We were rushed to the port. It was full of people trying to get a place in any of the ferries that were leaving. We would have panicked about our own state but our guide assured us that everything was in order. Perhaps for them it was a routine task but for us to see the dock crowded like Dadar station during peak hours was a bit of a shock. True to his word, our guide set us up at a nearby restaurant from where we had an amazing view of the sea and the ferries coming in and going, took all our luggage into their custody and asked us to relax. We had lunch and by 4.30 we stepped into our ferry. Our luggage was neatly stored under the hull in a similar fashion as it was brought to the island. I and Jayston made a mental note to rush and collect it the moment we docked in Port Blair.

We were glad we were on a ferry back to mainland. We got the best seats in the ferry…the first and the second row with three seats in each row, right at the front…we thought we were lucky…which was a misconception. However, we did not realise it at that point of time. I did mention in my Day 2 excerpt what a majestic liner the Makruzz was. One of the Makruzz staffers requested us to take a seat at the back as the water was quite choppy and sitting at the back would be a better idea. We did not think much about it  but headed back as if we were being punished for something we did not do.

The ride began and so did our woes. Passengers who felt lucky to have boarded a ferry back to mainland were celebrating eating samosas, scones, puffs, wafers and the likes. Some men were seen carrying tea cups for their families. All of these along with the men who were standing (I really could not fathom why they did not sit) started swaying precariously. Within 10 minutes of the ride, the ferry was thrown high up in the air and down the next second. It seemed like a roller coaster ride in one of the rides at Esselworld. This kept happening and happening. People started screaming, praying and huddling with each other. I could see a wife holding her little child in her lap and screaming at her husband for choosing this godforsaken journey. The crew spread out assuring everyone that this was normal if the sea was choppy and asked everyone to relax. The first casualty triggered the next sequence of events. The passengers started retching into bags provided by the crew. Family members tried to soothe the nerves of the affected ones sometimes succumbing to the surroundings and started retching themselves. Towards the end almost 95% of the passengers were affected. The air turned putrid and was thick with the smell of vomit. We later learnt that our ride was the worst since the start of the cyclone that had hit the island two days back.

As we sighted land, everyone heaved a sigh of relief. Once out, I tool huge gulps of fresh air to clear my system. Back in our hotel, I had light dinner while the others almost skipped dinner.

Day 6

We awoke to bright sunshine and soon forgot about the horrendous trip. We had an entire day off so we decided to explore Port Blair. The group decided to go once again to the Cellular Jail, this time with a guide. I skipped this tour. I could not put myself through the pain and misery once again. The group did come back and say that touring the place with a guide was a great experience. I would suggest that if you are planning to visit the cellular jail, you visit it twice. Pay a visit during the day with a guide as there is less crowd at this time. Towards evening as they have the light show, the crowd is multiplied four to five times as most tourists decide to visit the jail around 4 and then catch up with the light show. I rested the entire day and enjoyed the weather, met fellow tourists and chatted with the hotel staff.  Resting was very important for me as Divya had scared me with a very long trek planned the next day in the jungles to see lime stone caves. The pickup was scheduled for 3AM…

Tell me, does anyone get up at 3am when you are on a holiday? I was told there was a lot of travel time involved if one had to see the lime stone caves, mangroves and the mud volcanoes. (https://www.thrillophilia.com/destinations/baratang-island/places-to-vis).

From our hotel, it would take us approx. 2 hours to reach the convoy trail at Jurtang. The convoys would start at 6am and reach the jetty by 8am. Then it is a 30-minute jetty ride to reach the mangroves and a small motor boat ride for another 30 minutes would then take us deeper inside the mangroves. The motor boat would leave us at a spot from where would have to trek for 2km to reach the lime stone caves. Phew!

Day 7

The half sleepy group bundled themselves into the car. We were on a two-hour ride by road to Jurkatang. We reached there by 5am and the gates that took us through the forests would open only by 6am.  We were 5^th in the row. By 6am, the convoy grew up to over 50 vehicles behind us. Once the gates opened, we drove through densely populated forests with long winding roads. The convoy of vehicles rode as if in a procession, with equal spaces between each other. We were told that this was because the jungle was inhabited by the ‘Jarwah’ tribe – an uncivilzed tribe and perhaps the few of such tribes left in the world. We were told we would be lucky if we could see some of them. We eagerly wished to spot them in the 90 minutes it was supposed to complete this stretch. Suddenly, our driver realised that we had lost a tyre. He stopped. As a rule all vehicles behind us stopped and each one of us were asked to get into the cars behind us. There was no chaos or confusion. In 5 minutes flat, me, Adi, Devina and Jayston were bundled into a car right behind us, Rajiv into the next one and Divya into another one. The convoy continued without our driver. We continue our journey with strangers. We kept looking out for Jarwahs. The driver was the first to spot them and we managed to catch a glimpse of them basking in the sunlight. A man, a woman, children. They looked exotic. The woman was wearing clothes, a long yellow kurta, probably handed over by a passer-by. The man gestured something which our driver told was his request for a paan. The tribal was probably wanting to taste something he had eaten earlier. I would in no way term them uncivilzed. They were not hiding themselves. Seemed as curious as we were to know them. We also saw a few other jarwahs along the way and to me it seemed as if they had come out into he open to see us!!! We finished this amazing journey (minus our flat tyre) and reached the jetty gate. Our driver joined us soon enough. He must be a fearless man for he managed to change the tyre in the middle of the jungle all by himself!

A leech managed to such some blood out of Adi and the poor kid spent the rest of the day with a piece of paper tissue stuck on his leg. We soon boarded a jetty that took us on a 30-minute ride to a small bay from where another motor boat picked us up. The motor boat drove 30 minutes and took us deeper into the mangroves. The water was clean but muddy and not azure blue as it was at the beach.  We alighted on a ledge made of bamboo…. the ledge extended to a very long narrow bridge that took us deeper into he mangroves. A 2 km long trek involved us crossing marshy pathways and rocky areas which led us to the limestone caves. A marvel of art, the figures inside the caves shone and glittered. (please read on google in detail or better - visit the place). I was flushed from all that walk but I must say it was worth it. Going back, the guide took us through a different route, through fields and a whole lot of greenery and we were back in the motor boat. My lungs were full of pure fresh oxygen. We came back the same way minus any mishaps and were too tired by the time we reached the hotel. We rested a while and planned to visit the market place in the evening to buy souvenirs. Today was our last day here and we would soon board the flight to Mumbai.

That’s how I landed back in Mumbai on the 9^th of June and as I stepped out of the airport felt a disgusting stench hit my nostrils. I just could not take this shit, I thought. As I sat in the cab, a part of me slid onto  the next seat and whispered in my ear – this is where you were born, this is where you were a week back. This is your home. Learn to live with it.