Fifty, Free, & Finally Doing Nothing: Breaking Routine With My First Solo Trip

Trapped between a homemaker’s daily hustle and a brain updating the daily to-do list at a furious pace, my city-weary soul craved a recharge. This, after efficiently balancing three decades of domesticity with a full-time employment spanning several years. I thought. I researched. And finally, I packed my bags and set off on my first solo vacation, only in my early fifties. 

And the destination? For the orophile in me, it had to be a virgin Himalayan hamlet in Himachal Pradesh or Uttarakhand, away from noisy revellers and Insta-crazy selfie-seekers. Hence, places like New Tehri, Naddi, Dharamkot, Palampur, Bahu, as well as their better-known cousins like Landour, Dhanaulti, McLeodganj, Kasol and Tirthan Valley became my travel lodestar.

The very first time I did it, it felt like crossing the Rubicon. Now, it has become an annual ritual.

The freedom of doing nothing

Leaving behind a well-stocked kitchen, a well-tutored house-help, and a multitude of reminders and reckoners posted all over the house, I step into the airport, knowing I’m about to dive into my own little space for a few days while creating memories for a lifetime. And no, they never feel like a guilty luxury. On the contrary, once home, I bounce back into my domestic avatar, recharged and refreshed.

My solo vacations are usually a ten-day affair, planned in a way that accommodates both sightseeing jaunts and also ample time to indulge in dolce la niente — the sweet joy of doing nothing. The languid hours spent on my hotel balcony sipping hot ginger tea, reading a book, admiring the mist play peek-a-boo with the snow-crested mountains, listening to birdsong, watching the sky change colours, and feeling the nippy breeze caress my face, top my list of most cherished memories. Away from all responsibilities and an austere timetable, these getaways prod me to look inwards and connect with my core, while filling me with a deeply immersive peace.

Travelling alone has bestowed me with a huge reserve of confidence, courage and self-belief. Very often during my trips, I’m asked by cab drivers or hotel owners, “Aap kitne log hain?” I do not take umbrage. Instead, I look them in the eye and answer ‘only one’. Just like how I don’t allow myself to be guilt-tripped by anybody, known or unknown. Acceptance and validation start with the self, don’t they?

Long cab rides have been an essential part of my tours. I remember one particular drive from Naddi village to Dharamkot in Himachal. Initially, the pines and jacarandas reigned supreme, crafting a green-and-purple filigree on the azure skies. As the cab ascended, we observed mighty deodars and flaming rhododendrons vying for space on the hillside. The nemophilist in me was euphoric! The sun looked tired. The temperature was dipping. The gentle psithurism, an avian symphony, and the splendid gloaming - all combined to make it an unforgettable drive for me.

Here, I must mention the friendly and reliable drivers I’ve met who have regaled me with intriguing mountain lore, and ferried me along dark, treacherous roads late in the evening, with only our headlights to guide us ahead. While I always keep my invisible antennae on high alert, my faith in humanity has remained unscathed, and my respect for these simple pahadi folks has increased manifold.  

Sunsets, chai, and solitude

Sunsets, for me, always hold hope and the promise of a better morrow. And my stay at New Tehri gifted me the most gorgeous sunset ever! On a clear November evening as the sun started its westward descent, the entire skyscape was splashed in molten swathes of pink, purple and tangerine, while the peaks blazed like a goldsmith’s foundry. It was the Alpenglow — a scientific phenomenon where the snow-clad summit turns ruddy due to the scattered rays of the setting sun. I watched mesmerised, trying to freeze the surreal view in my mind’s eye.

During my recent stay at Bahu village, I was blessed to witness Baarah Jachh, the visit of the presiding deity of the highly venerated Shringa Rishi temple to Bahu. The entire village, dressed in their traditional finery, turned up for this much-awaited event. Their collective energy infused the setting with an effervescent aura, which blurred the lines between me, a random visitor, and the locals. In fact, a number of ladies invited me home for lunch and tea. Though I couldn’t oblige for a paucity of time, their geniality warmed my heart. 

My solo vacations in the Himalayas allow me to enrich my life and expand my experiential horizon, without being apologetic or self-reproving. The cagey glances and apprehensive one-liners that I, as a solo female traveller, evoke soon give way to appreciation and respect. After each trip, my fernweh is temporarily satiated until a new peak lures me. And I succumb to its charm, unabashedly.

Because the mountains whisper tales… tales that are best heard in solitude.

Authored by Urmi Chakravorty | Views expressed by the author are their own.