In Vasanti Dabolkar's case, negotiating the going wasn't as easy.An independent septuagenarian, who's frequently travelled overseas to visit family—where senior citizens are accorded special allowances like easy ramps and wheelchair access by law—she knew she'd have trouble convincing her daughter and son-in-law about her planned 14-day tour of the entire Konkan coastline and a return via Kolhapur. "First, I made sure I found jolly good company—my 50-year-old cousin—and then we planned the car journey down to the last detail," says the bespectacled, soft-spoken 78-year-old, about her non-tirth yatra.
Approaching Shivaji's sea forts by land and by water, sidling up to Dapoli's shimmering waterfalls, walking on Ganapatipule's golden beaches and catching the return of the south-western monsoon short of Amboli Ghat, Vasanti's Konkan safarnama sounds like a series of Kodak moments. There was also something deeper about her visit. "The most moving was Sawantwadi, my father's native place, walking through every room of his family home," says Vasanti.
Adopted as aji (grandmother), everyone along the way helped by suggesting shortcuts, guiding her to sunset points and making sure the bathrooms were wiped dry so she wouldn't slip. In between, she kept reminding herself to stop at phone booths every day, to call home and tell her daughter, "I'm fine, don't worry." 'Anandani milale'—we were warmly received by strangers wherever we went, says Vasanti. The absence of male custodians, of course, had much to do with this.
Also treated 'like royalty' by the attendants on the Netravati Express from Mumbai to Kochi were the sole occupants of coach S 1. Registered as Padmashree P.S., F 37, and Munjee Samira, F 27. Decamping from Mumbai for God's Own Country, these two media professionals quickly had Malayali men wising up to their strange ways right after arrival. Avid "water-therapy" enthusiasts even in unfamiliar territory, Mathew, their driver, was asked to halt every 60 minutes for bush-stops en route from Kochi to Varkala. Just so 'Paddy' or Samira could rush behind stunted shrubs and gnarled tree-trunks for 'relief'.
Inured to disapproving males, the two holiday-makers did exactly as they liked for three weeks, hitting the beaches at odd hours, chilling in the pool at high noon and going on night drives to see 'palmtrees in the moonlight'. Yet, once ensconced in their room, the only deed in the dark they shared were unfinished confidences, carried over from last night.
Getting to know each other's habits, these vacations are often about separating the group into supine sub-categories like early risers, late-sleepers and light-snorers. Says Pallavi Dalal, an educational consultant in Mumbai who has enjoyed six pink retreats in places like Kodaikanal, Mahabaleshwar and London: "Vacations only work with like-minded friends, when you've sorted out issues like budgets and bathroom routines. Fallouts, over anything, are disasters...."
Looking back on her 22 holidays with her soul sisters (which her husband requested her to spare him from), Anita says: "History in school was always a saga of dates, dates and more dates that I hated. It's on these travels that I've really learnt about civilisations, meeting people from all around the world." Ask her where she wants to sally off next, and the itinerary unfurls: Angkor Wat, Persepolis, Syria, Myanmar, Lothal and Ladakh, a list that'll run on "till life does us apart". While Vasanti says, "I think I am lucky that I could venture out and rediscover the goodwill of people, I hope everyone of my age gets such a chance." Amen to that and godspeed to all women with wings.
