Since I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to go to Kanyakumari (in a bucket list kinda way). I imagined this lands end with a sense of infinity… with long stretches of unbounded oceans that would bend with the arc of the globe... a magical place where three oceans meet… where Swami Vivekananda once meditated on the rock at the union of the three seas.
I thought it would be a shame to not go to Kanyakumari since we were travelling so close. The travel agent who did hotel reservations tried to discourage us. I was unshaken. Our driver disapproved. “Kanyakumari is a dirty place. Kerala is so beautiful. Why do you want to go there?” he questioned. I was unshaken. The trip seemed tad hectic. I was unshaken. I caught a bug two days before. I was unshaken. The night before the trip, my daughter threw up at night. We wondered if we should cancel the trip. But she looked perky in the morning and the trip was back on.
She seemed grumpy. “What?!! We’re driving all the way to see a rock?” she indignantly inquired. And only a short distance away from our destination, she threw up in the car. Sigh…the worst had happened. We cleaned her up, cleaned the car, gave her some electrolytes, and we were back on the road. It made better sense to reach our destination, than drive back the whole distance. I wondered why I had insisted on this excursion, when all odds seemed against it. Was I going to miss anything by not going there?
Braving more heat, bumpy roads, and a less-than-happy child, we plodded along. We were finally there. A ferry boat ride lay ahead of us… and of course a long queue. “Why are we always waiting in line?” my daughter eyed me annoyed and accusingly (??). Sigh…I felt her pain. I shared her discomfort.
As I glared at the woman who stepped on my toe a couple of times without even noticing, I thought of all the people who rarely leave their living rooms. Was I envious? That’s what all the travel channels are for, I told myself. Why would I not sit in my most comfortable chair and watch a video of the place? Splendid sunsets sans sweat, smell and struggle. And without this pushy, smelly woman practically sitting on my lap. I sighed. At least my daughter was feeling better, I thought gratefully.
A short bumpy boat ride with its own share of pushing and shoving later, we reached the Kanyakumari temple and the Vivekananda memorial rock. Somehow the clamor and chaos were never part of my mind’s picture as I had imagined this serene magical location.
We went to the Vivekananda memorial and for just a moment I let go of the clamor and took in the awe of the place. I looked at the waters searching for differences in color between the seas. Till of course, my daughter complained how terribly her feet burned. We found a spot in the shade and let the wind blow through our hair. It was wonderful.
I was excited to go into the meditation hall. I felt as if I was sharing a moment with Swami Vivekananda by meditating at the same spot. Except no eight-year-old poked his leg when he closed his eyes in meditation. Nor did other kids wail and fuss around him; nor did noisy tourists discuss the next destination in a spot which clearly said “Silence”. Grrrr… even if I threw them my most evil glare, sadly enough, it was too dark for them to see it. So I let it go… and decided to take in the moment. This was my moment and no wailing kid or pesky tourist could take it away. And despite the chaos, there was magic in the moment and no travel channel could give me that.
I came out and we sat on the steps looking at the ocean. A woman came out of nowhere, enthusiastic and dressed up. “Photo, photo,” she said and before I knew it, her arm was around my shoulder and we grinned at the camera like long lost friends. And no matter how strange the forced closeness was, her enthusiasm was infectious and it makes me laugh in confusion. And no travel channel can ever give me that.
Travelling can be uncomfortable and filled with annoyances and uncertainty. To encounter rich experiences, it is often necessary to wade through the less-than-pleasant waters of delays and detours, crowds and chaos, bad weather and stomach bugs. Whether it is worth it all is a personal choice. Perhaps some degree of letting go is required to experience the magic…for it is there…and no travel channel can give me that…
I thought it would be a shame to not go to Kanyakumari since we were travelling so close. The travel agent who did hotel reservations tried to discourage us. I was unshaken. Our driver disapproved. “Kanyakumari is a dirty place. Kerala is so beautiful. Why do you want to go there?” he questioned. I was unshaken. The trip seemed tad hectic. I was unshaken. I caught a bug two days before. I was unshaken. The night before the trip, my daughter threw up at night. We wondered if we should cancel the trip. But she looked perky in the morning and the trip was back on.
She seemed grumpy. “What?!! We’re driving all the way to see a rock?” she indignantly inquired. And only a short distance away from our destination, she threw up in the car. Sigh…the worst had happened. We cleaned her up, cleaned the car, gave her some electrolytes, and we were back on the road. It made better sense to reach our destination, than drive back the whole distance. I wondered why I had insisted on this excursion, when all odds seemed against it. Was I going to miss anything by not going there?
Braving more heat, bumpy roads, and a less-than-happy child, we plodded along. We were finally there. A ferry boat ride lay ahead of us… and of course a long queue. “Why are we always waiting in line?” my daughter eyed me annoyed and accusingly (??). Sigh…I felt her pain. I shared her discomfort.
As I glared at the woman who stepped on my toe a couple of times without even noticing, I thought of all the people who rarely leave their living rooms. Was I envious? That’s what all the travel channels are for, I told myself. Why would I not sit in my most comfortable chair and watch a video of the place? Splendid sunsets sans sweat, smell and struggle. And without this pushy, smelly woman practically sitting on my lap. I sighed. At least my daughter was feeling better, I thought gratefully.
We went to the Vivekananda memorial and for just a moment I let go of the clamor and took in the awe of the place. I looked at the waters searching for differences in color between the seas. Till of course, my daughter complained how terribly her feet burned. We found a spot in the shade and let the wind blow through our hair. It was wonderful.
I was excited to go into the meditation hall. I felt as if I was sharing a moment with Swami Vivekananda by meditating at the same spot. Except no eight-year-old poked his leg when he closed his eyes in meditation. Nor did other kids wail and fuss around him; nor did noisy tourists discuss the next destination in a spot which clearly said “Silence”. Grrrr… even if I threw them my most evil glare, sadly enough, it was too dark for them to see it. So I let it go… and decided to take in the moment. This was my moment and no wailing kid or pesky tourist could take it away. And despite the chaos, there was magic in the moment and no travel channel could give me that.
I came out and we sat on the steps looking at the ocean. A woman came out of nowhere, enthusiastic and dressed up. “Photo, photo,” she said and before I knew it, her arm was around my shoulder and we grinned at the camera like long lost friends. And no matter how strange the forced closeness was, her enthusiasm was infectious and it makes me laugh in confusion. And no travel channel can ever give me that.
Travelling can be uncomfortable and filled with annoyances and uncertainty. To encounter rich experiences, it is often necessary to wade through the less-than-pleasant waters of delays and detours, crowds and chaos, bad weather and stomach bugs. Whether it is worth it all is a personal choice. Perhaps some degree of letting go is required to experience the magic…for it is there…and no travel channel can give me that…
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| stop! let the cattle pass first... |
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| truck carrying sugarcane |
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just your routine traffic jam...and yes, the elephant is real |
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