Rajasthan: A mother-daughter trip

In November 2023, A and I went on vacation. This was our first mother-daughter trip. M couldn’t come along because of the hospital situation at home, and I decided on a whim that A and I would take off to Rajasthan. I need to get away from my laptop every now and then, and by the time it was November last year, I was very close to completely losing it. It had been a long and stressful year, and I was struggling to strike a rhythm with my words. I wanted space and time for myself.

I picked Rajasthan because there was a direct flight to Jaipur from my city, the weather would be pleasant, and I had never been there before this. A is 12 but she’s often the most adult person at home. She does not need to be told what to do and is fiercely independent. I was sure we would have a great time together.

We were leaving in about 10 days, so I quickly put together an itinerary. Jaipur, Agra, Ranthambore and Jaipur again. Seven nights in all. Was I worried about ‘just’ two women — well, a woman and a girl — traveling by ourselves? Most people who heard about our plan were concerned. Why not do a package tour? Why not travel with a bigger group? Find another family you could go with? But I’m not a fan of package tours — everyone stuffed into a bus that stops at the same dosa places and having to wait for co-passengers to turn up at their own sweet time at different destinations. I would probably spend most of my time getting mad that people were late.

I had not been to Rajasthan before this, so I didn’t know what to expect. Would the locals be friendly? Are the men oglers? What kind of clothes are likely to get you stares? How late in the night will the streets have traffic? But, what I do know from having read, edited and covered stories about crimes against women for years is this — women are most unsafe in their own homes. It is a woman’s immediate family and social circle that is most likely to cause her harm — from murder to sexual violence. Every year, NCRB data unfailingly confirms this. So, whenever I find myself becoming paranoid, I fall back on the statistics. We will be okay. We’ve got this.

Still, I bought pepper spray and put a small pocketknife in my backpack. A was vastly amused by this. “How do you plan to kill someone with that?” she asked me. I probably wouldn’t be able to, but I kept my “weapons” anyway so I wouldn’t go down without a fight. Statistics, pepper spray and a pocketknife. That’s all a woman needs to embrace the great outdoors.

I booked us into fancy hotels. I was in the mood for splurging, and I wanted all the royal luxury that Rajasthan promised. It’s a good thing I was born in the late 20th century because I have a sneaking suspicion that I would have been a very overbearing feudal person had I been born at a different time. I’m totally the type to soak in donkey’s milk for three hours, followed by a rose sherbeth break on the terrace where dancing girls entertain me. My daughter is the same. The girl loves her luxury, and I fully encourage her to do so. You get one life and there’s no reason you shouldn’t enjoy it. Since we’re both atheists who don’t believe in an afterlife or rebirth, we’re pretty determined to have a good time while it lasts. We are not frugal people, no sir.

The minute we landed in Jaipur, A told me that she had picked up a cold. We bought two jars of Tiger balm from the airport medical shop — one for her and one for me — and felt very pleased with ourselves. How efficient we were! Such quick problem solvers!

The cab driver was puzzled that it was just the two of us. “Are you sisters?” he asked hesitantly. I could choose to bask in the compliment, but I knew it was because of the missing husband. “Nahi, nahi!” I said. “Did you come for a shaadi?” he tried again. “Nahi, nahi!” I said again. Finally, the man couldn’t contain himself and asked me if we didn’t have an “aadmi” at home. Was I divorced? Widowed? Separated? I could have snapped at him, but I was in a good mood (Tiger balm ki jai), so I told him about the hospital situation at home and earned some sympathy points. When we got off, he told me that next time, I should come with my aadmi. “Bilkul! Theek hai!” I cheerily replied.

For the rest of the trip, my father had given us the contact of a driver he once met on his trip to Rajasthan. This is my father’s area of specialization. Whichever part of the world I go to, he will find a local person he can trust. I mean, I’m close to 40 and the man still hasn’t given up. I’m pretty sure that if I’d become an astronaut and gone to space, my father would have found an alien to serve as my local contact there too. This ‘friend’ driver found us another driver that we could fully trust with our brain, heart, kidney, spleen and other body parts. We decided to retain him for most of the trip.

In Jaipur, we visited the beautiful Amber fort, and A wondered how the king’s 12 queens managed to walk up and down the narrow pathways in their heavy clothes and jewellery. The guide who accompanied us also asked me curious questions about my missing aadmi. At one point, A suggested that we make up stories whenever we get asked this question. “Maybe we can tell them that we killed him, and that they’re next?” she asked hopefully. A is currently in a slasher/thriller movie phase, and that explains it. The child loves her father otherwise. Believe me.

We also went to Haathi Village which is a total rip-off. It’s meant to be a retirement home for elephants but they just make the poor animals carry tourists and work anyway. It’s also EXORBITANT, and I’m not going to tell you how much we paid for it. I didn’t want to disappoint A after going all the way there, so I just paid through gritted teeth. We did the mandatory local Jaipur tour, stuffed ourselves with fantastic meat-heavy plates of food and dessert, and went to bed happily.

We did a day trip to Agra the next day to see the Taj Mahal. A does not like long car rides because she gets motion sickness, so by the time we reached, she was in a bad state. Still, she perked up after a meal of buttery garlic naan and butter chicken. The Taj was spectacular, and A was impressed by the monument, but somewhat disappointed that it wasn’t a palace like she’d imagined. What I loved best about it were the drooping flowers in the interior chamber. “Shah Jahan thought even the flowers would be sad at the passing of Mumtaz,” said our guide. Ah, how romantic. Poor Shah Jahan, lying in his tomb, with no clue about all that gets said about him in modern India.

I had kept Day 3 morning free, knowing A would want a break after the long Agra trip. We woke up late, had a relaxed breakfast, and then lunch at a fancy pizza place that I found. After that, we went for a leopard safari at Jhalana, a reserve within city limits.

A has been on quite a few safaris with my parents and has spotted big cats in the wild several times. She loves the whole deal — waiting in silence, rushing to the spot when a cat has been spotted, the competition with the other vehicles, taking photos and videos — phew. And when she doesn’t spot a big cat, she gets mega pissed. Like it’s our fault the cat decided not to show up. Given this, I was jittery about whether or not a leopard would appear.

But, it did. And it was glorious. Our jeep was not the first to spot it. When our driver got the signal, he drove through the jungle at such high speed that A and I were almost flying out of the vehicle. I felt like I was in some Rajamouli-type of movie. By the time we reached, the leopard was trying to get away and we saw it running on the road alongside the vehicles. It was only for a few seconds before it dashed through the bushes and disappeared, but my god, I had goosebumps all over. I will never forget its snarling face. So angry at the stupid humans. We deserved it. We met an old friend of mine and her daughter for dinner that night and probably bored them to death with our leopard adventure.

On Day 4, we went to Ranthambore where we stayed for two nights and went for three tiger safaris. We got lucky on the first safari and spotted three adult tigers and a cub. A was over the moon. On the second safari, we spotted plenty of animals including a bear, but not the elusive tiger. By the time we got back, A looked like a deflated balloon. What if we saw zero tigers in our last safari as well? Oh the tragedy!

BUT BUT BUT, fortune smiled on us yet again. For most of the safari, we didn’t see the tiger and everyone in the vehicle had given up hope. But just as were driving back, the guide spotted a tiger. It was striding down the grass, unbothered by the whooping tourists. How regal! How majestic! I wanted to get down from the vehicle and bow low before its tremendous beauty. Needless to say, A was extremely pleased.

We went back to Jaipur and checked into yet another fancy hotel. We went shopping in the Hawa Mahal area for souvenirs and bought things that we didn’t really need. For dinner, we went to a famous restaurant in Jaipur that has amazing mutton bati. It’s a miracle we didn’t explode after that meal.

The last day of our trip happened to be Diwali. A and I didn’t want to do much, so we went and watched the newly released Tiger 3 in a mall nearby. “Salman’s face doesn’t move at all,” said A, and that pretty much summed up our view of the film. We just chilled the whole day and went to the airport in the evening to fly back home.

Did I ever feel like pepper spraying anyone? Nahi, nahi! Did I ever want to stab anyone with my pocketknife? Nahi, nahi! Will I consider doing this again with A? Bilkul! It’s a great, big world and we deserve to see it.