Circle of Kindness

One of the impacts of travelling is that it widens the circle of people dear to us. It could be argued that most of them were nice to me only because I was their source of livelihood; be that as it may, I know that it doesn't take away from the laughter we shared or their acts of kindness.

In times of crises anywhere in the world, and certainly during the current global coronavirus pandemic, I've been visiting all those people in my mind.

That train driver who stopped an entire train for me when he saw that I had alighted on an inconvenient platform with my huge suitcase, so that I could use the train to cross over to the other platform with an elevator.

The family we shared everything with - bathrooms, chores, meals, bonfires, laughter, and a spectacular view of the Himalaya.

That lady who gave us soup on the house during a thunderstorm and made calls to a petrol company in a foreign language, when we worried that our card had been billed multiple times.

Those guides to whom we entrusted our lives as we traversed treacherous, high-altitude Himalayan terrain for days, accompanied by much talking and laughter.

That farmer, homestay host, and chef, all of whom gave us free produce to take home because we had enjoyed it so much.

That air bnb owner who left us wine and cookies in our room, should we have midnight hunger pangs.

That random stranger I nodded at, who stopped and said "gosh, you are beautiful!", making me blush.

The villager who invited us into her house and plied us with freshly squeezed sugarcane juice because it was the best her farm had produced that season.

The sales assistant who sent me to her competitor who stocked more designs in large sizes, because she wanted me to buy a jacket I loved and not just because it fit me.

All those who didn't speak a word of English, but patiently heard out my inelegant mix of pidgin Mandarin and sign language as I ordered lunch, never hurrying me even though there was a long queue.

To all these and many, many, many more - know that I am thinking about you.

Book: Inku Chomps, Gobbles and Slurps

A children’s book about the food habits of Great Hornbills, for Pratham Books’ STEM series. Flying food, crawling food, hopping food – no food is too crazy for Inku, a Great Hornbill hatchling.

Some months ago, I often uttered unintelligible sounds and wondered whether a lizard was tastier than a bat, causing those around me to worry. However, the kind people at Pratham Books indulged me, and I am chuffed to have my first ever book published. That too about the Great Hornbill, one of my favourite birds.

Thank you to the Pratham Books team for believing that I could write for children, and for their patience as I unlearnt writing as I knew it and re-learnt how to write more simply. My gratitude to Dr. Divya Mudappa for answering all my questions about Great Hornbills and fact-checking my story.

The print version of the book can be purchased online. The online version can be read on StoryWeaver’s website:

https://storyweaver.org.in/en/stories/66024-inku-chomps-gobbles-and-slurps

2019 Travel Calendar

2019 turned out to be one of the most bountiful travel years of my life, allowing me to be itinerant for two months. It was also the year that brought me the opportunity to explore three new countries – a rare phenomenon given that I’ve been able to travel abroad only once in a few years. There were some short trips within India too; I’ve really begun to appreciate what just a couple of days can do to boost my happiness and energy. Lastly, this year, more than any other year, I’ve walked my way around cities like there’s no tomorrow, and climbed my way up countless steps: reiterating to myself that exploring on foot is what I enjoy the most.

The more I travel, the more all places feel like home, and the more affected I get by the negative happenings worldwide. I find myself increasingly struggling with travel-induced gloom, but it’s a harsh reality that cannot be avoided. I hope that the overwhelmingly positive memories and experiences I’ve had will give me the courage to step up and act, whenever and wherever it is needed. Here’s hoping for 2020 to be all about positivity, inclusiveness, and cheer, focusing on what unites us instead of what differentiates us.

                                                                                                     

Jaipur

I almost turned down an invitation to a wedding at Samode Palace near Jaipur, because I had another trip being planned for the same date. Some quick juggling and an awkward itinerary made it work, but it entailed stressful trips from and to Bangalore airport within a span of hours (those who know Bangalore will sympathise). Two days spent in the company of much love and laughter, though, allowed me to tide through the crazy travel. Of course, Jaipur’s ethereal architecture surrounded by rugged landscapes proved to be the perfect backdrop for it all. The happiness deposited me in Germany with a smile on my face, ready to begin my next trip.

Samode Palace

Germany

Thirty five years after my father’s trip to Hamburg, I expectantly planned my trip, wondering whether the city still remained the same. Being peak winter—and post festivities—in Germany, there were hardly any tourists, and I had most monuments and museums to myself or in thin company. Reduced daylight hours meant that I didn’t add too much more to my itinerary, savouring just Hamburg, Berlin, and a whirlwind stop at Dresden in two weeks: each city so different and so vibrant, that they easily filled all the time I had. Germans’ sorcery with potatoes, beer, bread and baked desserts had me craving for more. A surprising realisation of the trip was that my thoughts about rules and straight talk align more with the Germans, than with any other country I’ve been to so far.

A view of Hamburg's harbour-side.

Shanghai

Unplanned to the hilt and utterly enjoyable is how I can encapsulate my trip to Shanghai. Casual bantering with a friend who had moved there just a couple of months ago led me to book tickets on a whim. Though I had two weeks to spare, I decided to visit only Shanghai: a fantastic decision in hindsight. The megapolis surprised me with its unique blend of the Orient and the Occident, and I could have easily spent a couple of more weeks there. My takeaways from Shanghai included diverse topics like communism, local culture, city planning and architecture.

But, for the first time in life, English, which allows me to sail through worldwide, proved utterly useless. I jumped at the opportunity to pick up Mandarin phrases, communicating with the incredibly patient locals using a mix of my inadequate language, sign language, and hilarious Google translations. And, barring a couple of meals, I stuck to my—what I was told was pig-headed—resolve to find and enjoy vegetarian Chinese food.

Jade Buddha Temple

Texas, USA

If Shanghai was unforeseen, the trip to Texas was even more so, and so last minute that it felt like a local trip. Though the travel was for some family work, I was able to make the most of my five days there, thanks to my cousins’ enthusiasm - they managed to show me slices of local life, took me for countless Tex-Mex meals, braved hikes in a state park in the oppressive summer heat, walked enveloped by the sticky, salty air at a heritage seaside town, and ferried me long-distance to NASA. Texas also showed me a side of the USA I hadn’t seen in my 2014 trip: a region in a time-warp compared to the other areas I had been to. Until I have the opportunity to explore Texas more deeply, I will remember its 1980s vibe, mom-and-pop stores, expansive farmlands, pick-up trucks, fast driving, Tex-Mex food, and hearty pies.  

Hiking at Bazos Bend State Park.

Pondicherry

Tired from back-to-back travel, I almost didn’t want to travel again when friends planned a getaway to Pondicherry, intending to celebrate two of their birthdays there. Lured by the promise of a relaxed long weekend, and not wanting to miss their birthdays, hubby and I drove down to Auroville, where they had rented a small villa. It proved to be the perfect “do-nothing” holiday, involving talking, laughing, reading, eating and sleeping. Just one evening, we dragged ourselves to Pondicherry’s promenade for an evening stroll, sunset views, and gelato. I would easily do this again.  

Italy

A birthday celebration intended to be in Kashmir moved to Italy, leaving me tinged with sadness. Though Italy was always extremely high on our wish-list, circumstances meant that it was a fairly last-minute change of plans, with just enough time for the visa. As if rising to the challenge, Italy gave me a birthday to remember! Being an architect and a lover of its cuisine, Italy was saddled with high expectations, which it met with aplomb, every bit as wonderful as I had imagined the country to be.

A little over two weeks took me to Rome, Naples, Florence and Pienza (Tuscany). Italy frequently overwhelmed me with its art and architecture, and I realised that I will need multiple trips to enjoy everything that I want. The food, fiercely regional, still has me salivating at the memory, and was a strong highlight of the trip. A big credit towards making the trip enjoyable goes to all the locals we interacted with – giving suggestions and tips, smiling, always up for a chat, cracking jokes, and going out of their way to make things for us.

A classic Tuscan landscape, with rolling hills and Cypress trees.

Mumbai

It was yet another visit home in December, to catch up with family and friends - visits that I also use to explore some of the (what feels like) million things in the city. This time, I took hubby to Bandra in the Christmas-New Year season, when its bye-lanes are alive with twinkling lights and an old-world charm. We also walked along Bandra’s seaside promenades, gawked at the homes of Bollywood stars, snacked on street food all over the city, hunted down some winter delicacies, and bargained hard at Mumbai’s street fashion Mecca. Ferrying us all around were the ever-reliable local trains, the winter making the usually stifling-hot bogies and edgy commuters more pleasant and even-tempered, resulting in less punching and shoving to get in and out.          

Christmas lights at Ranwar Village.

2018 Travel Calendar

2018 was the year of mini breaks: trips lasting one to three days. Low on budget and time, I found myself having to choose between no trips and micro trips. For somebody who finds 2-week trips short, I surprisingly enjoyed these bite-sized escapades. Throw in the fact that all these trips were very last minute, and improvised on the go, and it rings true that travel does teach you a lot about yourself; I never imagined travelling in a “chaotic” manner, and yet I did.

2019 is luring me with a lot of promises. I’m ready to move on from my brief romance with brief trips, but nonetheless, happy at having learnt about new ways to keep my travel spark burning.                                                                                                                                                                            

Kabini

This old favourite never disappoints, easily leaving me refreshed in just a few hours. I didn’t even have to wait until I reached Kabini for the excitement to set in…just packing my jungle clothes for the trip melted those blues like nothing else. Add in some safaris with knowledgeable naturalists, the tranquillity of the forest, and a quick digital detox, and I returned ready to dive back into routine.

Tranquebar

On my wish-list for over a decade. Finally, plans fall into place. A cyclone threat looms large. My car breaks down. I almost return home. Decide to go ahead without my car. The cyclone passes, but not before giving Tranquebar a good wash. I traipse around town with my umbrella, in the rain. Enough said.

It’s hard to believe that I had a great time in spite of all this, but that’s the charm of Tranquebar.

Mumbai

Visiting home in December—the season that’s as cold as Mumbai can ever get—I capitalised on the good weather to go on rambles and guided walks in South Bombay, or “town”, as we call it. Of course, taking the hubby to discover more Irani Cafes was on the menu, as was the hunt for the best Undhiyu, a Gujarati winter speciality that’s my favourite. We ended up deviating for some butter chicken along the way, but the fragrance of Undhiyu finally led us to culinary heaven.

Chennai

A reluctant visit to attend a family function turned into the perfect way to sign off 2018. I am slowly discovering fun and exciting facets of Chennai, and a guided walk around traditional Mylapore kick-started my first staycation. Shocking relatives by checking into a hotel instead of staying with them was just the beginning of an exciting weekend. After a room upgrade in a heritage hotel, some truly fabulous food, attentive and personalised service, and lots of ‘nothing time’, I understood why staycations have been gaining popularity.

Workshop: An Introduction to Travel Writing

Collaborations are always exciting! Which is why, an offer to create and conduct a travel writing workshop for WEVID, whose workshops aim at addressing the evolving demands of the design industry, was too tempting to pass up.

The widespread popularity of travel has created an enormous platform for swapping stories. Images and words are powerful tools to share your travel experiences with family and friends. The sheer number of travel blogs has also meant that stories get easily lost in the crowd. This workshop offers an introduction to travel writing to those who want their storytelling to stand out, and will help participants write well-crafted and engaging stories that go beyond being just another trip report or blog post. In the age of Instagram and hashtags, long-form writing that sustains interest is challenging. This program aims to fill that gap.

Date      : 06 May, 2018 [Sunday]

Timing   : 9 am to 5 pm

Venue    : Innov8 Coworking, Koramangala, Bengaluru

Open to : Any individual interested in travel writing (18 years and above)

Workshop curator & facilitator: 

Raji Sunderkrishnan (architect, writer, editor & photographer)

For registrations, please follow this link: https://goo.gl/forms/RhVJnRc6u4M7D2243 

More details at: www.wevid.in/nb

2017 Travel Calendar

2017 brought me my leanest travel year since I began active travelling ten years ago! Work and family commitments took centre-stage, leaving me rooted to home. I did miss the sense of excitement and discovery that travel brings, and I often found myself browsing through old trips’ photos for some armchair travel and nostalgia.

The road-trip to northern Karnataka in Jan 2017 was special, because I have finally seen all the distinct regions of Karnataka, where I have been living for almost 14 years now. Karnataka’s diversity in landscapes, wildlife, culture, art, architecture, and food have given me many fond memories and enriching experiences over the years.

Though I have no travel planned for 2018, I am optimistically looking forward to the year!

                                                                                                           

North Karnataka road-trip

This region had been on my wish-list for a long time, as it promised to be different from Karnataka’s other zones. North Karnataka’s close proximity to Maharashtra and erstwhile Andhra Pradesh has led to its unique culture, food, language and clothing. The region is also filled to the brim with a rich architectural heritage of diverse styles. The 10 days we spent in Bidar-Bijapur-Badami-Pattadakal-Aihole left me craving for more; so did the mouthwatering local food at khanavalis, traditional eateries in the region.

An artist paints the Bhuthanatha Temple at Badami

Hyderabad

A serendipitous addition to our itinerary, Hyderabad fell into place because we decided to access Bidar - the starting point of our North Karnataka road trip - via Hyderabad, as that seemed to be the best route. Although a short break, we were able to enjoy a fair slice of the city’s culinary treasures. I have visited Hyderabad before, and am vaguely familiar with its tourist attractions, which we decided to skip this time. With my cousin (who lives in the city) in tow, we spent a couple of days feasting on Hyderabad’s well-known as well as little-known culinary delights ranging from the very fiery to extremely sweet. And of course, copious cups of Suleimani chai and an assortment of breads and biscuits.

Irani chai & an assortment of biscuits at Nimrah Cafe, by the Charminar.

Nature’s Classroom

An unedited version of my story published in the Nov-Dec 2017 edition of asiaSpa India.

I should have been distressed, but I wasn’t. I should have moped, but I didn’t. I continued sipping my hot chocolate as though nothing had happened, staring expectantly through the foggy window for signs of that magical swoosh of green, the Aurora Borealis. Worried about my lack of reaction to the news, my husband proceeded to console me by saying that he was hopeful about the storm not setting in the next day. I cheerfully told him that we should turn back as advised, halfway into our road-trip around Iceland - the trip I had meticulously planned, the trip that was all I could talk and dream about since six months, the trip that was so expensive that I felt pangs of guilt in spite of having painstakingly saved up for it.

That night, we were the only guests at a cosy wooden inn at Breiddalsvik, a small fishing town in Iceland’s craggy East Fjords. For that matter, in the week we had spent driving from Reykjavik - Iceland’s capital - to Breiddalsvik, we had been the only guests everywhere. I am not exaggerating for effect – we were literally the only two people on the road at most times, barring at Reykjavik, home to almost half of Iceland’s minuscule population. In October, at the onset of winter, the weather in Iceland is at its most tempestuous. So when the locals at Breiddalsvik told us that a ‘don’t travel for a few days’ warning had just been issued because of a storm brewing all along our route, we knew it was prudent to turn back. That was a huge blow, but why wasn’t I upset? The answer surprised me.

Stormy weather in October

Shorn of creature comforts like luxury accommodation, local cuisine (being a vegetarian limited me) and ‘branded’ shopping, which sometimes tend to define a travel experience, Iceland had helped me discover what was important to me. I learnt to live in the moment, without a plan - quite a challenge for someone who likes to be on top of things. My definition of well-being changed; I realised that feeling alive and happy could result from just a consciousness of the world, my surroundings, and its wonders, including undesirable ones like the impending storm.

A week ago, a day after I arrived in Iceland, the Snaefellsnes Peninsula welcomed me with howling wind that rattled our parked SUV like a cradle. Overcome by fear, I sat clutching the car door until my knuckles hurt. Our guide had already descended to the bottom of the hillock, and gesticulated wildly, beckoning me to join him. Mustering up all my courage, I stepped out into the 25 mps (90 kmph) wind, the warning for which blinked on the digital display by the roadside, and had prompted us to stop driving until it subsided. I quickly wobbled down the slope. There, sheltered from the wind by the rocky drop, I gaped at the deceptively tranquil sight before me: Kirkjufell, with its small cascading waterfalls. 

The hill Kirkjufell, with the waterfall Kirkjufellsfoss in the foreground.  

As the adrenaline coursing through me slowly mellowed, and my heart ceased to thump wildly, I wondered whether the threat of danger made one feel alive. The epiphany came yet another day, when I walked the slippery slopes of a glacier, with crampons strapped on, every step calculated and purposeful, avoiding crevasses and thin ice. In spite of the intense concentration, my mind registered both the sheer expanse of the glacier as well as the delicacy of the lace-like patterns on patches of frozen ice. Yes, the threat of danger had indeed made me pay closer attention to my every movement, and details of the landscape, which may have otherwise gone unnoticed.

The summit of the glacier Svinafellsjokull.

Iceland took me out of my comfort zone, challenged me to rely on cues given by nature, and reinforced my belief in goodness. A fairly egalitarian society; the refusal to have an army; the rental company asking me to leave my car with its doors unlocked and the keys inside so that they could pick it up; museums refusing to charge us for our second visit because they said they noticed how much time we spent appreciating each exhibit - through large doses of pragmatism and visual poetry, Iceland reassured me that a lot is well with the world.

Bobbing in the hypnotic blue water of the Blue Lagoon, a geothermal spa, images from the road-trip flashed before my eyes. Geysers, bubbling soil, volcanoes, lava fields, craters, glaciers, icebergs, auroras, and fjords - phenomena that had merely been words, were now memories. To be in the lagoon’s warm water while the land around was in winter’s grip was a surreal experience. Slathering some mineral-rich mud on my face, I floated to the bar for a drink, happy that driving back had given us more time to spend at the same places, as well as a chance to meet those who had waved us goodbye days earlier. Our promise of returning another day had come true, albeit sooner than expected.

A day before I left Iceland, I stood on the viewing deck of Perlan, an erstwhile water tank in Reykjavik converted into a public building. The blue ray of light from the Imagine Peace Tower - John Lennon’s memorial – shot up into the night sky, with a full moon for a neighbour. Below twinkled Reykjavik’s lights, as though all the stars had fallen down from the sky. And then, unexpectedly, two green beams emerged from the moon and snaked across the inky canvas. The Aurora Borealis is rarely seen unless the sky is clear and dark, yet here it was, defying convention. The unbridled joy in that moment was a fitting culmination to what had been constantly reinforced throughout my trip to Iceland: “Allow yourself to be surprised.”

The Aurora Borealis (northern lights) over Reykjavik. The blue 'Imagine Peace' light, conceptualised by John Lennon’s wife Yoko Ono, is lit every night from his birthday in October until the day he was shot in December.