I can remember two occasions when I went on a short holiday by myself and couldn't wait to get back. The first time was after finishing a journalism course in Chennai. We had a few weeks to ourselves before graduation and the start of our working lives, and a mysterious restlessness gripped me. I had the company of close friends, but that didn't stop me from taking off. I was 22, and the idea of getting on the road with no clear destination still seemed romantic. Little did I realize that most parts of India are not well-suited for single travelers. Indians vacation in groups and the sight of a solitary traveler evokes puzzlement. Traveling on the cheap is not really a concept here because it involves rubbing shoulders with people from a far lower station in life. A warm and extroverted person might still have enjoyed the novelty of such a experience, but for me, it just brought up the class (and caste) guilt that has been a perennial feature of my life for years.
The second time was later that same year when the job I was so looking forward to after journalism school turned out to be a dead-end. I lied to my boss that I had caught a stomach bug, which was convenient since it was a long weekend. My boss saw through my lies, but when she called me to beg me to come in because too many people had called in sick, I was already at my destination. I felt no compunctions about letting her down because she treated us like school kids. I had a decent enough time on this occasion because it was a change from my rotten circumstances at the time.
Since then, all my holidays have been trips with friends or family or to visit friends or family. I have realized that I don't enjoy travelling for the sake of it. I crave solitude sometimes but I have discovered that one need not travel to find it. And, that the most solitary act in the world is writing.
The second time was later that same year when the job I was so looking forward to after journalism school turned out to be a dead-end. I lied to my boss that I had caught a stomach bug, which was convenient since it was a long weekend. My boss saw through my lies, but when she called me to beg me to come in because too many people had called in sick, I was already at my destination. I felt no compunctions about letting her down because she treated us like school kids. I had a decent enough time on this occasion because it was a change from my rotten circumstances at the time.
Since then, all my holidays have been trips with friends or family or to visit friends or family. I have realized that I don't enjoy travelling for the sake of it. I crave solitude sometimes but I have discovered that one need not travel to find it. And, that the most solitary act in the world is writing.
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