Solo travelling is quite the trend these days. My Facebook timeline is teeming with pictures of people going on solo trips. Everybody else seems to have either gone on a solo trip or is planning one. To think about it, I am the person who should be going on a trip alone, considering that I don't have many friends. But then, travelling requires money, and I don't have much of that either. The double whammy of lack of friends and of money got me quite worked up and my mind began to wander.
I wondered whether these solo travelers will evolve better than me, considering that they are a step ahead in terms of surviving on their own in the wide wild world. Most definitely the future belongs to the solo traveler and the species of people like me would be wiped off the face of earth. A million years later, the only human race surviving would be that of the solo travelers. That could really happen, given that solo travelers have better chances of finding mates on their solo journeys than people travelling with their parents or friends.
I would have sunk deeper into the sea of melancholy had I not stumbled upon a memory. I realized I have been doing solo travelling even before the term became a rage – just when I was seventeen years of age. I was going to a big city for my college. It was the first time I would be travelling in a train without my parents. I was both excited and nervous. My mom, who had come to see me off, was naturally worried about me. She told a young man in the compartment to watch me. My mom – so naive and gullible! The gentleman, who wasn't so gentlemanly after all, spent the rest of his journey "watching" me, though in a manner my mom would not have been too happy about. Neither was I.
A story comes to mind. Brahma, creator of the world, once created a woman called Satarupa. Brahma was smitten by the beauty of his own creation and in order to see her wherever she went, he grew three more heads. Disgusted, Satarupa rose to the sky to avoid Brahma's gaze. I decided to do the same and placed myself on the top berth. Later in the story, Brahma gives himself a fifth head, on top of his original head, to continue watching Satarupa. I'm sure the man below would have been wishing for an extra head just like Brahma's fifth head.
I thought it was safe to descend when the man got off the train. I climbed down, not knowing that another kind of danger awaited me. An elderly gentleman, who had just gotten into the train, was looking at me curiously. He waited for me to settle down in my seat and then smiled at me. I reciprocated with a smile, and then was when the man bombarded me with a volley of questions – starting from "Where are you going to?" to "Where do your grandparents stay?" Meanwhile, he was also supplying me with a lot of information about himself, his children, and his grandchildren. In a span of about ten minutes, he had extracted more information from me than I ever knew existed. I wish there were data privacy laws against such people.
At the next station, a Bengali family got in the train and immediately started opening their bags. A pleasant aroma of food wafted through the air, and, thankfully, the old man was distracted. I seized this moment and moved to the window seat, which was as far from the man as possible. I fixed my gaze on my book and never for once dared to look up at the old man. What if there were more things about me he wished to know.
The rest of my solo journey was not bad, with me switching between reading my book and glancing out of the train window. With this memory revived, I can now proudly say I am not uninitiated in the world of solo travelling, having had my own share of risks and adventures.
