"If you are not a bit broken then may be you are of no use to me and my attention." I was fiddling with these line in my head, eager to place it somewhere or at some place. It was 7 o'clock in the morning and I was lying down funny in my room. My old man, would be the go to person for this creative urge, but it is too personal. He will gauge the intensity and then things will not be that good for me. The commotion at the living area, got my attention and a sprang to action to meddle into "family matters". I saw Mother and Father staring at the lush bouquet of white lilies lying suspiciously at your door step. My mother was giving an eye full to my father and he sheepishly said, "We have a young lady at home and anonymous admirer at the door steps, Go figure."
So, as I pack my bags again to return to Kolkata from Odisha my mother asks me a question.
"You will be travelling alone in a night train."
I look at her and then the thought strikes, most of the time (99.9%) she does not know that I am travelling alone. The second line of thought is well she is my mother, if she will not worry then who else will.
When I look back in time, it has been over a decade of solo travelling. It started from the time I entered college and luckily this phase is still going strong. I read at places how unsafe solo travelling is for a woman especially in India. However, I believe I am lucky to be born in India and one of the reasons behind is that this country has immense beauty and enigma in every bit and corner (really... "Main toh tera jabra fan ho gaya").
Anyway coming to my point, there are advantages of being a solo traveler and I cannot trade it with company.
1. My Travel My Rules: Have you ever tried going out with a group of people? There…
"These are just old stairs." I mumbled under my breath, half disappointed at my misadventure. This man has once again tricked me into following him in his vagabond wanderings.
"Did you say something?" He looked at me and smiled. I timidly shook my head quickly to indicate a no.
Yes, I am a bit scared of him, may be I am scared that he should not feel that I am not his little kid anymore and I have grown up. That is my Father, ever enthusiast, the eternal nomad and an avid walker.
I guess it is like an addiction for him, he just keeps on walking through streets and alleys. As a kid he would take me with him and I had to run, gallop and skip to catch up with him. With time the addiction passed into me. Winding through those streets, with a half fear and half thrill of getting lost, only to find a new way back home. It is a funny thing, in the end, you always return back to home; a bit grown up, a bit broken, a bit tired, but then you are home.