As I Traveled, I Happened To Meet...

The reason I traveled so much in my childhood days was because of my father. He is someone who has ‘a taste for traveling’. Having  grown up in a small town in West Bengal, I wonder if he ever imagined that one day he will travel all across Europe and America. He got to see places that most Indians don’t even know about- Slovenia, Croatia and so on because his work would always take him to new places. The unfortunate thing was that I could never accompany him on any of his tours, except for the one time I went to Russia. But that doesn’t count, because I was still a fetus and you can’t really see much from the womb.

But just because I didn’t get to go abroad, doesn’t mean I didn’t have any fascinating journeys. When it came to traveling, my father tends to be inclined towards the unconventional. So, when most of my friends in Delhi went to Shimla, I went to Kashmir. When my friends from Mumbai went to Goa, I went to Puri. I could go on and on  about all the places I’ve been to, but the thing is that I don’t remember the picturesque locations as much as I remember the people I met there.

The first person I remember is an police officer I met in Amritsar at the Wagah border. I remember watching the retreat ceremony performed by the jawans and although I was too young to think deeply back then, I now marvel at the geographical closeness of India and Pakistan. As the Border Security Force of India and the Pakistan Rangers perform their routine, you can’t miss their perfect harmony, which is exactly the kind of harmony the two warring nations probably need. I was a cute child, even if I say so myself. I got cuddled a lot and everybody loved me. But that day, people realized how powerful a child’s innocence can be. Somebody from the other side of the border, a man with a bushy moustache and cap, called me to him adoringly. To me, he was just another person, and I started marching in his direction, ready to cross the border to an unknown Pakistani stranger standing just fifty metres away. I still wonder what would have happened if nobody had stopped me. Would I be tried and sentenced for trespassing, or would I be peacefully returned to my family after a good deal of cooing?

All I know is that I don’t have a clear memory of the retreat ceremony, but my memory of that man hasn’t diminished over the years.

Then there was the Kashmiri family that invited us over to their house after meeting us on the bus. It was quite an impulsive decision to actually accept the invitation. Given the safety hazards of traveling in Kashmir, it’s not always advisable to go to places that weren’t part of the original tour plan. We went to the most beautiful house in a small locality. I quickly became friends with the children. They even gave me a lehenga to wear and I played around in that lehenga. No matter what the political situation of a place, you can still expect to get warmth there. I can safely say that we have never been treated as well as guests as we were that day by the Kashmiri Muslim family.

(clockwise from top left:1. Me and my sister with girls from the Kashmiri family that invited us over to their home.  2. The locality their house was in. 3. My sister with the Kashmiri girls. 4. Us enjoying their marvelous lunch)

I also remember the night our bus broke down in Nepal. Even though my strongest memory of the night is the sky- living in a city doesn’t allow you to witness a starry night sky which has less black, more sparkle- I also remember the people I met. There was a man who kept his mouth covered at all times I an effort to save himself from pollution. I wonder what he would do if he lived in Mumbai. Everybody was friendly, and for once, I thought that the stereotypical notion of ‘people living in the mountains are easygoing’ had some substance to it. Everybody was patient in waiting for another ride to come. My grandfather, who speaks Nepali, overheard some of the locals talking about our parents, saying my mother was good-looking and my father would have been too if male pattern baldness hadn’t got to him. Many years have passed since then, but I still remember that night because my trip wouldn’t have been the same without our bus breaking down and us having to spend a night with the locals.

There was another time in Puri when we met another Bengali family. The coincidence was that the older son was friends with one of my cousins that we were close to. It’s fun getting to share a holiday with people who have so much in common with you- language, culture and even address (because they lived just a few blocks away from the our home in Kolkata). When my family checked out of the hotel, I got left behind because I was in another room, watching TV. It was because of this family that my parents managed to take a U-turn and come back to get me without turning into nervous wrecks. When I was safely reunited with my family, everybody shared a good laugh at my expense.

We also met a child actress in Puri. She acted in a TV show that my mom watched religiously and she and I became friends. We tried to make her spill what would happen next in the show but she didn’t. When we got back home, more excited than ever to watch the show, but in the days we had missed watching it, the show had undergone a ‘time leap’- all the characters were now older and our child actress had been replaced by somebody else.

But the people we meet while traveling aren’t always the best company to be with. In Jaipur, we stayed in a guest-house with the nosiest, most eager to please and interfering caretaker ever. He wouldn’t even let us have our meals in peace. Literally every two minutes, he would pop into the dining room and say “Can I get you achaar?” or “Do you need water?” or “Where will you go tomorrow?” It wasn’t just the things he said but the way he acted. The frequency of him coming to say something or the other to us was so high, we finally had to ask him to stay away because he was getting a little frightening.

And then there was the worst of all- a Bangladeshi couple we met in Puri. The woman was overly talkative and the man always looked stoned. They were neither the same age as my parents nor the same age as me and my sister. They had nothing in common with us. Soon, they became really irritating, but we couldn’t tell them because they’d think it rude. Finally, when their pestering threatened to ruin our entire holiday, my father adopted a very clever idea- he found a hotel with great discounts and took them to that hotel, and seeing the heavy discounts, they decided to stay there. The hotel was quite a few miles away from ours and we thanked God as we wouldn’t be seeing them again.

But for every pest we meet, there is someone equally adorable. I am talking about the little children I’ve met on my travel- all different to look at, all equally cute. I usually try to keep pictures of them so as to remember them.

A baby girl we met in Arunachal Pradesh

A little girl in Nepal

A baby boy with his mother in Arunachal Pradesh.

All that being said, what makes our trips truly worthwhile are the people who make our trips possible. It’s our travel agents, our tour guides, our tour bus drivers and our hotel staff. I thank the tourism industry for making our trips the wonderful experiences they are.

Next time you go somewhere, remember this- nothing can help you absorb the culture as much as meeting local people. Instead of always eating hotel food, try to eat at a local’s house and know that’s what real food tastes like. Ask the people which are the best places for entertainment (music, dance and stage shows) instead of just relying on brochures and travel guides. Become a part of the place you’re in. I promise you won’t regret it, because a holiday just isn’t the same until you truly interact with people who make the place what it is.

(This is an entry for blogging contest held by Expedia. For more, visit www.expedia.co.in)