Enjoying a cup of Butterscotch ice cream at Prinsep Ghat

Read: Kolkata Trip: The Planning and the Journey
          How I Used Six Modes of Transport to Reach the Village of Deulti (Day 1 Travelogue)

The six modes of transport we used and the 10 hours of staying outdoors tired me and my cousin. When we were in the train towards Howrah, exhausted from the adventures of a long day, my cousin announced that he had to gather exam notes the next day, because of which, I had to travel all by myself. I was thrilled, no doubt. But the first thought that struck my mind was where to go? Do I take the risky route and explore the forests of Taki (which is known as Mini Sunderban here) on the outskirts of Kolkata or wear a tourist's cap and explore the best of the city by taking metro rides and cabs? I didn't give this much a thought then and continued enjoying the present moment.

I was awakened by a deadly humid weather on the second day of the trip. It reminded me of Mumbai. It reminded me of my bed back at home when the afternoon naps often turned sweaty, restless evenings because the air conditioning effect had faded out by then. It reminded me of those who could not afford an AC unit and how they survived the heat.

That morning, we woke up late. It had turned afternoon by the time we left our beds. The weather was one of the worst. I'm sure the weather report had something similar to share. It was sunny, bright, humid. The humidity was so high that I was positive it would rain by the time it got dark. I felt uneasy and the need of a refreshing drink was excessive. I felt like drinking gallons of water and jumping in a pool with a shade on top. 

By the time I regained my senses, it was too late. Ishan had received exam notes by then and we had thought of diving in one of the pools at Aquatica water park. We checked the entry fee and to our disbelief, it was incredibly inexpensive! We were about to book our tickets online when we checked the time. It was 3:00 pm. The park shuts at around 5:30 pm. I could not surmise the fact that it was so late!  Where had the time passed by? We gave up the idea of doing anything, and I continued writing my blog and editing the Deulti vlog.

I was upset and angry at myself for wasting one precious day in Kolkata. Little did I know how much a day meant and how many things I could have done but missed for being a scrimshanker. I decided that no matter what, I was travelling solo the next day and exploring the city all by myself.

Nutella shake ahead of a board game in Bogglingames Cafe

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Day 3
Where to go still remained unanswered. I was determined to explore the city alone. However, when I was planning, my cousin's roommates were around too. They helped me with places they'd been to and suggested many (Prinsep Ghat being one of those).
They had an exam the next day so it was pointless asking them to join me. But, one of his two roommates, Adwait, who is as old as me, was called by his former boss to visit her.

My cousin and Adwait worked in Bogglingames Cafe, which is a board game cafe in Kolkata. When Ishan had told me many months back that he worked in a gaming parlour, I had imagined something completely different. I had imagined a dark setting with video games and people playing while simultaneously battling their video game addiction. However, on reaching the cafe, the view in front was completely opposite. There was no dark room and there were no video games.

We left the house for the day's adventure by afternoon and then by walking towards the auto stand, took an auto to the Mahanayak Uttam Kumar metro station. According to the initial plan, I was to leave home with Adwait and he would get down at the Jatin Das Park station and I would get down at Esplanade station because I had plans of shopping at the markets there. However, he casually asked me if I would like to join him to the cafe and I thought, yes, why not?

So we stepped down together at the Jatin Das Park metro station and walked towards the cafe. The place had a wonderful sunlight peeping in thus making the cafe bright and cheerful. Two tables were occupied with people playing board games while simultaneously biting on their piece of garlic bread. The cafe looked interesting. One side of the wall was full of board games, with––I'm guessing––about 350 board games, which I had never even heard of, in varying fonts and widths.

Adwait and I entered the cafe and occupied one of the tables. His former boss, the owner of the cafe, was seated with two girls and was educating them about the game rules. We ordered a sandwich, a plate of Maggi, and a Nutella shake. The owner, who Adwait was referring to as Kirti ma'am, joined us shortly. She asked me about my whereabouts and on knowing I am a sister of one of her former employees, she was delighted. She suggested me Bengali cuisine restaurants like Kewpie's and 6 Ballygunge and for Chinese, to hit the Terreti Bazaar, which lies in the old Chinatown. For chaats, especially for a local dish named chilla, she asked me to go to the Vardaan market. She recommended a diner named Little Italy for its dozens of Pizza topping options. Amongst the places, she recommended  Prinsep Ghat in evening and Belur Math or Botanical Garden for its aesthetics.

Out of the recommendations, I tried chillas and chaats outside Vardaan market, had a special veg. thaala at Kewpie's and spent my evening at the Prinsep Ghat.

The beautiful view of Vidyasagar Setu bridge and Hooghly River (which is one of the two distributaries of the Ganges)

After finishing the food, it was time for me to explore solo and for Adwait to head back home. I got down at the Maidan metro station to visit the Prinsep Ghat. My solo travel had begun. At the back of my mind I knew, if I succeed today, I'll move a step forward to accomplishing my dream.

I waited at the bus stop that was right outside the metro station. As buses drove by, I asked the conductors if the buses went to Prinsep Ghat and after hearing a negative response thrice, alas the fourth conductor told me I wouldn't find a direct bus from there. What next? I opened my Uber app.

I reached the ghat and my only aim then was to go on a boat ride. On enquiring, I learnt the boatsmen did not entertain single individuals, so I gave up the idea of boating. (Though one of the boatsmen said he would charge Rs. 400 for a half-hour ride and I was no way paying him that much.)

I thought of having chaat and watching the sun go down by sitting on the steps. I had a popular dish of puchka and it was so disgusting, I was grossed out after having four puchkas only. The man insisted on two more to complete one plate, which he said was for Rs. 20. But I told him I would pay the full amount but I was done eating puchkas. I was saddened since I had heard about puchkas from many people and it was a sheer disappointment.
Next, I bought an ice cream and walked towards the steps to enjoy it while looking at the sun.

The experience was absolutely different. People kept looking at me with confused faces as to what is an alone girl doing at a public gathering place like this. Some looked at me with awe and some with pride.

I could see young people dressed in ethnic clothes and when I had assumed it to be the general dress code here, I realized people were dressed like that due to the new year. It was Bengali New Year that day and hence I could see women dressed in beautiful traditional outfits with a bold eye makeup and an equally bold bindi. At that moment I wished my cousin and his roommates were with me; they would have enjoyed seeing fellow Bengali girls and who knows, woo one or two.

I felt a little out of the crowd because I was dressed in a button-down shirt and a pair of shoes.

I spent the rest of the evening on the steps looking at the sun descend down. As soon as I finished my ice cream and was convinced that the view ahead was worsening and realised the place did not have anything more to offer, I called an Uber for home.

Asked a kind girl to click a photo for me at Prinsep Ghat

However, while chitchatting with the driver, he suggested going to the Esplanade metro station instead of the Maidan because it was much nearer. I was delighted! I immediately thought of shopping at Esplanade market since that was a part of the original plan. The driver guided me really well.

I passed the horrifying dark lane to get to the road. And yet, I had not reached the market. I asked a lady about the New Market (which I referred to as the one below the Oberoi hotel) and she pointed it out to me. I just had to cross the busy road to get to the market.

Alas! I had reached. I did not find any western wear like t-shirts or shorts much but was stunned to see so many stalls selling kurtis. As I progressed further, I came across the popular cotton Bengali saree that my mom had asked me to bring from Kolkata. I asked the price and the seller replied with Rs. 200 for "these two piles" and Rs. 300 for "this pile", while moving his hands accordingly. I immediately called up my mom to ask if I should buy a saree for her and she was happy. I bought a light pink saree for Rs. 300. I had even liked the red and blue sarees, but my mom already has a red Bengali saree (my dad had bought for her) and I was not sure if she would adore the blue one as the print on it was checkered and I was slightly doubtful.

I continued my shopping spree and after reaching home realised I had purchased seven kurtis, one cotton saree, and one t-shirt (which was for Rs. 100 only).

The experience of shopping alone in a new city and in a market full of chaotic men, that too at night, was exhilarating. If you ask me what kept me going, I would undoubtedly have to say this: confidence. Being––or at least pretending to be––a tough girl helped me in the long run. I would walk with valour, with my shoulders backwards, chest pushed out in the front, almost like a bhai of that area. The more a person or a situation creeped me out, the more I walked with this stance. I knew one thing, if I showed them I was scared, they would use it as an opportunity to scare me further. Ain't nobody is doing anything with me. Ain't nobody is touching me inappropriately. I am Rutuja Bhagwat; I'll screw them if need be.

Watch the vlog:

On a cart cycle towards a roadside hotel as the old man poses alongside

Before a trip to any place, I sit down for a week-long research. The priority is to look out for offbeat locations in and around the city. If I'm lucky enough I get some unusual places but that is not the case most of the times. I continue the research and then try out my own ways––which I'm going to share on the blog in short time––of looking out for these offbeat locations. This is how I have explored so many unknown lakes on the outskirts of Mumbai.

While I was doing that, I came across some really kickass locations outside Kolkata and they intrigued me over the touristy, popular ones. You know, I can say I'm no longer the pretty "city girl" since I love the countryside over the city. I've quenched my thirst for a city life (well, except I would love to explore NYC or Tokyo) and want a life with greens, browns, and blues––and if the heavens bless, then few more colours.

While researching, I came across some of the most beautiful places about 3 hours away from Kolkata. I enlisted them in a tabular format along with "how to reach" and "distance" columns to make the task of picking up locations easier.

I reached The City of Joy around 11:30 pm and the next morning, though we wanted to start early, we left the house at 12:30 pm instead. My cousin's puppy, Mufasa––who is a mix of a Labrador and an Indian breed––could not adjust with his master sleeping on the bed, which was unusual to his everyday mattress routine. The puppy, therefore, barked and whined throughout the night until 4:30 am when we were finally dead asleep. He was not used to sleeping without having my cousin, Ishan, by his side.

To have been slept at 4:30 last night, there were slim chances of waking up early. We somehow managed to arise and from the list, decided to go to the nearest location, which was the Deulti village. (There were few places closer than Deulti but I had reserved them as the "resting day locations", meaning, we would go to faraway places on alternate days and the remaining days, we would go to the nearer locations.) I had fantasized my itinerary, and though it was humanly impossible to follow this plan, I still was dreamy about it.

The hand of innocence: The baby that kept us entertained on our local train journey towards Deulti

Unfortunately, after my tickets were booked, my cousin's internal exam schedule was out. He had his exams from the 16th to 18th, exactly between the time frame I was staying in Kolkata. I knew I would have to travel solo. Nevertheless, we decided to visit Deulti, for its positioning and a nature resort named Nirala. The plan was simple: Reach Nirala Resort, have a (super) late lunch and come back.

The travelogue would turn twice interesting if I divide my entire journey from Ishan's house to Nirala Resort between six different modes of transport we took.

SHARED AUTORICKSHAW TO MAHANAYAK UTTAM KUMAR METRO STATION

On each day of my Kolkata trip, I have taken a metro to reach the first location and then Uber-ed for the rest. The nearest metro station to my cousin's house is the Mahanayak Uttam Kumar (Tollygunge). In order to reach, we first have to walk about 10 minutes to reach the rickshaw stand and then travel in a shared rickshaw to reach the station.
During the morning peak hours, we would wait in the line for a longer time than the afternoon hours when the queue used to be a lot shorter.
My cousin told me that Kolkata only has shared rickshaws running in the city and I was taken aback. There are cities like Pune where the drivers insist on charging you without the meter and then there is Kolkata, which only works on a shared basis. In a way, this was beneficial. We had to pay Rs. 6 per head to reach the destination and get a vehicle much sooner as four people got into one rickshaw at a time.

After crossing a lot of passersby and understanding the afternoon Bengali scenario, we reached the metro station.

The beautiful unending scene from my local train window

METRO TRAIN TO M.G. ROAD STATION

We stood in the queue for our tickets to the MG Road station, which was about 10 stations away. While I was in the passage, I was excited to see the photos of few Bengali legendary artists. I wanted to capture the art in my frame and while I was doing that, two policemen––who were walking towards the exit––stopped by and enlightened me about the 'No Photography inside the Metro Stations' rule. They were so kind that they softly asked me to delete the video and further added that a fine of Rs. 500 is levied if caught for photography. While I was listening to them, I almost ignored another local who was trying to tell me about this rule.
I was glad the cops understood my naivety and did not charge me half a grand for breaking the rule.

I was quiet. I was upset. Kolkata is the home to India's first metro and not being able to capture it in my frame meant such a huge loss to my viewers as well as to me as a vlogger. Nevertheless, I soundlessly kept my phone away and walked with my cousin towards the platform. On my way, I saw the signboards that read 'No Photography'.

I got a seat on the Ladies bench while my cousin stood away. I assumed that Kolkata has a reservation for women everywhere but I was corrected later when we were standing in the queue at Howrah ticket counter and there was no separate queue for women.

When on the train, I was inwardly lost. That's the point when I realized I was observing people and making mental notes of their behaviour, their clothing, their appearance, and their relationships to one another. This situation took me back to the time I used to travel in Shanghai's metro with my mom and dad, doing nothing but silently understanding people.

The ten stations passed by quickly as in no time, it was announced the next station being MG Road. We dropped our tokens into the system and exited the station.

BUS TO HOWRAH RAILWAY STATION

We were supposed to catch a taxi for the Howrah railway station but instead, since a bus was stopped for few seconds right in front of us, we got into it. The ticket from MG Road to Howrah was Rs. 6 I believe. Every journey gives you a different experience. We were seated on the bench reserved for women, which was in the bus driver's cabin. Though his cabin was partially open, I can surely say, it was the cabin we were in.

Captured on one of the benches inside Nirala Resort

I witnessed the most chaotic aspect of Kolkata that afternoon. Unlike other passengers, I had a humongous window all to myself. I could see the entire two-way road in front of me. The same road, which had tram tracks running in two directions. The same road that was bustling with cars and people. If asked what was Kolkata to me, the sight in front was the answer. The yellow taxis, the sweaty people, the narrow roads, the tram tracks, the fruit carts, the traffic, the chaos, the fish restaurants, the scorching sun, the old buildings, the saggy wires, and the humidity. This was Kolkata for me. Simple yet beautiful.

I observed people, firstly those who were battling the sun on the roads and my bus driver, who was fighting the traffic and the sweat on his face. I'm sure my cousin, who was seated next to me, lost his patience at that moment seeing the turmoil. I'm sure that that must be the time he decided never to travel with his cousin Rutuja again. He's from Pune, a city that is independent of public transport. He's used to kickstarting his bike and going to places. Whereas, on the other hand, I'm an ardent Mumbaikar. Even though I hate the disorderliness of public transport, I don't mind taking it to cut down expense and taste the city's authentic flavour.

Soon, my thoughts were disrupted as we could see the letters that read in huge, bold letters "Howrah".

LOCAL TRAIN TO DEULTI STATION

Though my cousin, which I assumed, might have lost his patience in the unruly bus ride, I seem to have silently regretted my decision of asking him to join me and of choosing Deulti as a location to visit right when I was at the Howrah station. I applaud the size of the station and the number of platforms have truly surprised me but there's one thing the authority needs to look after, which is: the indicators.

I am thankful to the three policemen and a strange lady to guide us with the necessary information.

We were relying solely on a timetable we found online. On the small screen, we were looking for any train that took us to Deulti station. However, the screen only showed interstate express trains and not the local ones. After spending about 15 minutes under the huge fan and almost breaking our necks (and our brains) by looking upwards at the indicator, we finally decided to ask the locals. We did and few of them replied in Bengali, which, not even after trying, we could comprehend. We then spotted policemen and asked them.

Captured at Deulti railway station

A strange lady was seated next to the police and she guided us, with her hands and face pointing to a platform nearest to her, saying the Panskura train would be there in five minutes. We were obliged and walked towards the platform. As soon as the indicators changed, a wave of people came swirling towards the platform. In no time, the local train was spotted.

I was hoping I get a chance to enter the train and get a seat because the time required to reach our destination was about an hour. We chose a promising spot on the platform and the train crossed us and finally, halted. That's when the Mumbaikar in me awakened and using all the tricks and strength I had gained in my eight years of local train experience, I pushed men to get on the train. I scurried like a mouse and got two seats for myself and my cousin. We confirmed from the fellow passengers again if the train halts at Deulti and when they said it does, I was dancing internally.

The train journey was rather pleasing. I could see my cousin relax and seeing his smile, I was relieved too. On the seat in front, an elderly man was seated. His semi-bald head and facial features reminded me of my late maternal grandfather and his five brothers. This man looked someone who would not tolerate any topsy-turviness and someone who enjoys his space and who is proud of his OCD. The weather was still hot and humid but the moving train brought along gentle breezes. The man had a grumpy expression and was frustrated with the man next to him who was busy buying a packet of peanut chikki.

Right when I was enjoying this man's expression and thinking of my grandfather, a family of six got on the train. The man next to me, who I thought was selfish earlier, turned out to be a kind man in actuality. He offered his seat to one of the older ladies from that family. Her grandson sat on the lady's laps and demanded chikki. Shortly, the passenger closest to the window got up and his seat was taken by another young girl from the same family. The little baby was shifted from his granny to the young girl.

The journey after this shift turned twice entertaining as everyone around seemed to have one mission: to keep the baby entertained. To my disbelief, even the grumpy man cracked a couple of jokes to keep the baby engaged. What a jolly ride! Just when I was building a view of Bengali people for being hostile towards one another, this journey changed my views. I understood that people everywhere are similar. They love babies and they would seldom pass a compelling comment to refrain the babies from crying.

On the footover bridge at Deulti railway station

The family got down two stations before Deulti. Finally, it was our time.

What I loved about these outskirts is the greenery. I had never seen such dense green outlining a railway track ever in my life. The outskirts of Kolkata are blessed with breathtaking views throughout. You will not encounter even one barren patch. I was in the train for about an hour and the scene outside my window did not disappoint me even once.

CART CYCLE TO NIRALA RESORT

The Deulti station appeared quiet and empty. People slackened in their walks, the trains moved at their own pace, the life seemed listless yet peaceful.

Without knowing the correct exit, we still managed to take a bridge and after asking for directions from the locals reached the road finally. We asked for Nirala Resort and went walking when we met a young local who was well versed with Hindi. We confirmed from him the route and he said there were vehicles to take us to the resort. My cousin asked the rate and on knowing, I thought this was the best idea since we were acquainting someone from the village. It is always wise to know someone from a strange location. We agreed and the young local directed us to few men who were standing with cart cycles.

As soon as I learnt we had to sit on a cycle cart, my happiness knew no bound. While my cousin was dubious, I was extremely delightful. We sat on the cart and the old man cycled us towards the resort. The day was breaking into dusk and the sun had pacified down, thus allowing cool winds to flow. This cycle ride was one of the best rides as it was my first time. The breeze and the greenery added to its exclusivity. I forgot about the troubles we had to face in order to reach here and just enjoyed this short ride.

In just five minutes, we entered the gates of Nirala Resort. Instead of paying the rider and letting him go immediately, I insisted my cousin to inquire about lunch availability. On enquiring, we learnt the resort served no vegetarian food and I was thoroughly disheartened. I had already imagined the simulated waterfall and the beautiful river view.

The receptionist recommended a roadside hotel called Abhishek and that's where we went later. We paid about Rs. 70 to the old man and though it seemed vehemently extra, I thought the man deserved it for all the physical efforts he had put at this age.

Another one from the Deulti railway station

SIX-SEATER AUTORICKSHAW BACK TO DEULTI STATION

This time too, before paying the rider off, we asked the security men if the lunch was served since it was 6:00 in the evening and usually lunch timings end around 5:00 pm. We even inquired about the return journey and only after we were satisfied with the answers, we paid off the old man and let him go.

After lunching on Paneer Kadhai, Dal Tadka, Jeera Rice, and Butter Rotis, we left the hotel at 6:30 pm. This is when my cousin informed me about the early sunsets in Kolkata. (I remember, a couple of days later, when I was sitting in Ravindra Sarovar garden, I had called my mother. It was dusk around me in Kolkata but in Mumbai, as my mom told, it was still late afternoon and the "sun was shining so bright that my mom did not feel like stepping out.")

We crossed the busy highway and stood for a six-seater. In about few minutes, a six-seater halted in front of us. The vehicle was full but could accommodate two more people. I sat with the village ladies who were surprised seeing me shoot a video and my cousin stood at the door with two other men.

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The short six-seater ride ended in five minutes, and we were back at the Deulti station. We bought tickets and waited for our train. This time we did not require any pushing and entered easily. There were a handful of passengers inside. For about 15 minutes, my cousin couldn't control his sleep and took a nap by resting on my left shoulder while I was determined to not let his head fall off.

We reached Howrah and took a yellow taxi for MG Road station and then took a metro to Mahanayak station. We reached the shared auto stand, where my cousin's roommates were waiting. Though awkward at first, we managed to speak with each other. We waited for about 45 minutes in this queue to finally reach home to our puppy Mufasa. He seemed too happy to see his master and three other humans. What a long day, I reminisced!

Watch my vlog:

This could easily be the first time I have decided to do something impulsively and have actually done it. Since my cousin studies in Kolkata, I always had this city on my mind. I had fantasised taking a layover in Kolkata and then exploring the acclaimed hill station of West Bengal––the beautiful Darjeeling. The very thought of the milky fog, dense green trees, and having a cup of tea against a picturesque backdrop inclined me towards this eastern state. Since the plan got finalised, the thought of touching the eastern coast of India delighted me. I have never been to this side of my country––I have not even crossed or was not even lucky to witness the vast fields from a moving train. 

This is me, maidenly stepping on the eastern lands. I’m unsure of what I have in store. I’m about to explore the east in its raw glory.

Thrilled to start my first ever solo train journey. Photo clicked at CSMT, Mumbai

On a late afternoon, while my fingers were tired and brain exhausted from writing a lengthy blog post, a sudden thought of travelling beyond Maharashtra occurred. I was not in a position to invite others for this faraway trip as I had a travel planned in the month of June with a friend. So, what do I do and where do I go. Kolkata was always on my mind. I wondered, why not give it a shot? 

I asked my cousin if he was free on those dates. My cousin is a cricketer and April is a month of exams. Luckily he was free. I started digging out places––and not the touristy ones––but the places I loved. The places with mountains, lakes, beaches, rivers, and a blanket of trees. But before I got dreamier, I finalised the week and then the train tickets. My friend helped me book the tickets as we discussed it over a call for about 30 minutes while shifting the dates from the third week of April to the second. 

My parents warned me saying they would not let me go unless my ticket booking status is confirmed, which means, they would not entertain the waiting lists and the RACs. The reason for preponing the dates was because of the tickets. I wanted to travel before Kolkata's summer got deadlier––this eastern city is as humid as the western city of Mumbai––and since my dad was returning from Dubai in the fourth week of April, I had a semi-flexible schedule. The tickets were confirmed: I was leaving at 5:15 pm in a Howrah Duronto Express on 11th April and was coming back in a Howrah Mumbai Mail, about a week later. 

It was unbelievable! I had just planned a trip to Kolkata (and it took me just two days to take the decision). Due to my backpacking essentials video, the packing had begun about two weeks prior to travel. Initially, I was carrying my 60 L backpack, but then after looking at the videos on YouTube about minimalist packing, I was encouraged to carry a lighter pack. I took out my Echolac backpack, which is a mysterious one since I'm unaware when my dad purchased it. 

I have carried this backpack a number of times on my camping adventures and one-day trips. I cleaned the bag with a wet cloth and turned the smoky grey colour to a raven black. It needed a couple of stitches and a lace. The bag looked as good as new.

The next task was to select a day bag. I did not have a 20 L backpack and I thought I should buy one. I do have a 10 L backpack but even that’s on the verge of wearing out, so I thought of buying a new. I went with a Fastrack bag, which cost me around a grand.

The videos were shot and one of those was uploaded to YouTube, the bags were packed, the e-tickets printed, and the nails done. I left for Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus at 3:00 pm from where my train departed. Anurag came to drop me off.

The train left on time and I was glad people around me were modest. There was a girl about my age who was on a call when I got there––rather, this young Bengali makeup artist was on a call throughout the journey. Next to her was an elderly lady, draped in a beautiful shining blue sari. Opposite to her were two elderly gentlemen. I thought the four belonged to one family but I later learnt that the girl was alone and the lady was with her husband. What troubled me were the three men on the side berths.

The men were decent and of age. They were discussing something related to their job. One of them sounded drunk and most frustrated amongst the three. They were continually talking about a few people from their workplace. Throughout the initial hour, all I could hear was how a certain Dubey was cunning.

The train took its pace and soon, the ISRTC staff came distributing refreshments in their yellow and green uniform. I thought the service was smart but the caps on their heads blocked their views to see passengers on the upper berths. And since I was one of those passengers, trying my best to call the staff with a soft "excuse me", I had to get into a constant battle to win their eyesight. 

I had a mix of notions looking at the amount of food served on this journey. As soon as the train started, the passengers were given refreshments in the form of a small carton of mango juice, a chutney sandwich, a pack of roasted peanuts, and a cutlet. Even water bottles were distributed.

The only sugar and caffeine source: my favourite chai

Right when the passengers were done munching and settling back, the staff returned again. This time, they brought tomato soup and breadsticks. I was watching all this from the top. Then they started distributing small paper cups with a little pack along. It was tea time. I asked for a cup too. 

While booking tickets, I had assumed the one-way ticket to being around two grand but then had to settle with a costlier train, which was a grand more. During the checkout, there was an option to save money. The food charges were Rs. 450 per person. I thought of giving it a miss.
Therefore, when the ISRTC staff was serving food, I was looking at it like a hungry puppy looks at food. Whenever I craved for food, I gorged on the methi parathas and cheese sandwiches my mom had given to me. Trust me, they tasted even better on the train.

It was about 9:30 pm when the passengers collectively thought of calling it a day. After being satisfied with dinner, they started making their beds. I was still on the upper berth, wondering what kind of humans sleep so early. I worked for a while on the laptop and then watched The Seven Years Itch movie.

Next day, at 8:30 am, I was woken up with the morning hustle. The staff was serving breakfast and I took a cup of tea for myself. The journey continued and everything was amazing for a female solo traveller until a man was shifted from another bogie to mine. He was seated in my compartment, on the lower side berth.

Nothing alarming but the man kept looking at me continuously. Before the lights went out, he glanced at me fewer times but once it was dark and people went back to their beds, he kept staring. I generally become uncomfortable when people stare. May it be my lover or a roadside creep, I don't cherish stares. In order to block the view, I played several tricks: When seated, I kept a pillow on my lap and when rested on the back, I blocked his view by spreading out my blanket.

This man made my entire journey troublesome and I lost my peace, without a doubt. Later, on the evening of the second day, while I was sitting down with other passengers, he was right there. He had positioned his mobile in such a way that he could have easily photographed me. I was angry and questioned him,"Kya kar raha hai (What are you doing)?" On that, he showed me his screen and immediately replied that he was downloading a game.

I became so restless and irritated that I went up again. My bed looked like a cage.

Unfortunately, to add to the list, a tree was allegedly fallen on the tracks because of which our train was halted for over an hour. We were supposed to reach Howrah station at 7:50 pm but instead reached it three hours later.

The train crossed Jhargram, Kharagpur, and then Kolaghat. Soon, we reached Howrah...

I was delighted to finally move on to a stable land. My eyes turned to the glass window and I saw my cousin! He perfectly found not just my train or my bogie but even the door I was getting down through. I got off the train and hugged my cousin. Finally, I had stepped on the eastern land.

We started towards the exit and on the way, I couldn't help but look around. It was as though my one part of the brain was engrossed in a jolly conversation with my cousin and the other, constantly building images and observing people––their behaviour, their rush, their temperaments, their clothing, their appearance. I started to find some resemblance between the Howrah station and either of the stations back in Mumbai. To my surprise, the people were not any different and the hustle, similar.

We exited the chaotic railway station and stepped onto the wet roads outside. I could see a plethora of taxis. I smiled because I had just witnessed Kolkata's famous yellow taxis. They appeared like a hive of bees, buzzing around the entrance, eagerly looking out for their honey: the passengers.

We booked a cab and drove towards my cousin's house. On our way, we saw a glimpse of the Eden Gardens stadium and the cricket fan inside me celebrated. I even saw the tram tracks and promised to sit on one, no matter what. I saw the older Calcutta as well as the developed Kolkata. The 1-hour ride acted as a silent city tour in itself. Though the station was awake, the city was quiet.

Alas, I was stepping into my cousin's house, when a black furball came running. The puppy––my dear Mufasa––was so excited to see his master and another human. He started biting and chewing the bag-straps. My cousin introduced me to his roommates, Rohan and Adwait, amongst whom, I knew Rohan since Ishan's schooldays.

I freshened up and it was time to edit my first Kolkata vlog...

Watch the video:

March was a wonderful month with adventures and happiness. Every year, March is mundane, even though it is my birthday month. But this year, almost every other day, I was celebrating something or doing some activity. What I liked most about March, apart from the amazing collaborations I was a part of, was that I went a step closer to travelling solo. You wonder why?

On top of Mama Bhanja Hills

What do you think are the main reasons behind people not going solo? Some might not enjoy their company, some could be extroverts, some might have the fear of loneliness, darkness or vulnerability, some might wonder who would capture their photos (especially travel bloggers and Youtubers). 

Out of all these reasons, if you ask me why I would think twice before travelling solo, it would be the unavailability of a person to click my pictures and the fear of darkness and vulnerability. You can call it the fear of ghosts when I am alone in the hotel room, the fear of wild animals when I am trekking or in the wild, the fear of bad men if I’m walking alone in the street at night or the fear of theft, kidnapping––who knows––when I'm in my own hotel room.

I have these fears, but you know what? There is always a way to train my mind and get over these. All this happens psychologically and you can control it. However, the problem of not having a photographer with you is something you can't control. Sure, you can ask your friends to come along but they won't come with you every other time. They have their own family and other sets of friends to spend time with. You have an option left, and that is, to ask passersby to help you with pictures.

Yet again, you're unsure whether to trust them or not. What if they run away taking your expensive camera? Or, even if they're sweet, how many times will you ask them to photograph you? It becomes a painstaking task.

(I don't mean to be a pessimist here; I just intend to lay down facts and possibilities in front of you for the sake of this post.)

Anyway, one of the most beautiful things that happened in March was that I purchased a tripod. I have been wanting one for many years and finally could buy one. It’s not that I could not afford earlier but now I just think that the need is much higher than what it was before. So this is why I say I am a step closer to not having a travel partner and enjoy exploring alone.

While writing this post, I figured that there is yet another reason that holds me back from travelling solo, which is the transportation to and fro. I know to drive a car––rather I have a license––but I don’t drive frequently. I do know to ride a moped but I don’t have a license and I am not confident in riding it on the roads. (I have my own reasons behind this psychology.) So in short, even though I own a moped and a car, I still somehow am handicapped to travel. I need someone to drop me off at a location or rather accompany me. All these camping locations and the base points are so far off that we generally are unaware of the public transportation and require a private vehicle. But unfortunately, since I am not that confident in driving a car or riding a moped, I become helpless. This is yet another fear/shortcoming I have to overcome.

But, concentrating only on positivity, I’m glad that I purchased a tripod finally, that too, with a mobile mount; this has certainly made my life simpler. I just attach my phone to the mobile mount and fix it to the tripod. Turn on the timer, press the shutter, and run to pose!

Owning a tripod has not just eased my Travelling Solo dream but also has ensured my friends are in the frame. All I now feel like screaming, on a mountaintop, facing the valley is, "Goodbye, strangers! I don't need your photography anymore!"