Virtual Wanderings During the Pandemic

Lazing around on a Sunday afternoon that has nothing to do with the Sun. The greys are starting to roll in, perhaps someone has been humming in Malhar raag.

It’s a perfect opportunity to cozy up with a steaming cup of cha, some salty nibbles, and a great book.

*PING* chimes your phone, and you look at the silly device that has been your only window to the world for the last couple of months.

Some throwback post by someone you hate to love, posting a video of their road trip to Ladakh last year. Little prayer flags fluttering in the crisp air. A beautiful old lady who has more stories etched on her face than you’ve ever read, serving a hot bowl of Maggi with a toothless grin. You follow the azure Dras river that babbles and gurgles in glee to where winds of the valley hum to their own melody. You aren’t really a visitor after exchanging a smile with the little Changpa girl dancing with a goat like Heidi.

“Enough!” you think out loud, pulling yourself out of the #wanderlust vortex.

It seems like a lifetime ago, the planned trips and the sudden quick escapes, the neatly packed suitcases or the grab and go backpacks. The solo rides to the mountain or the gang’s 17th reunion beer bash by the beach.

The first few months were cute, rediscovering your own home, baking breads and whipping coffee. You adapted to virtual date nights and zoom parties and traveled through OTT shows.

But before you knew it, you were hatching escape plans again. A spontaneous trek in the Aravallis, or sprawled in a shikara on the Dal, picking off tender green pepper berries at the spice plantations of Periyar or walking barefoot in the sands of Jaisalmer on a full moon night. The heart longs to hear the bards giving life lessons along the banks of Rewa, while the feet tingle to dance to some Kuchipudi.

A quick look at some more travelscape photos on your feed and it makes the mind wander off again. This time to some sunny island where your tresses are entangled by the ocean breeze and the skin caramelized in the salty sun.

To the roads you have explored, and the ones yet to be discovered, you make a silent promise, “I’ll see you soon”. Until then, you sigh and get back your book while letting the imagination travel wild and free.