I travel to the mountains I can’t climb, to the clouds I can’t touch, to those rivers I can’t swim into, I take that journey because that is where I meet myself. Away from home. Away from everyday. Away from everyone. Far away yet closer to my own self.
I have made millions of wrong decisions in life but I know traveling isn’t one of them. Because I know that cooking workshop in middle of paddy filed in Bali stirred a #LifeGoal for me.
I know that meal at a small village in Nagaland, Chizami taught me to not judge anyone’s food choices.
That last sunset in Jimbaran, Bali was a reminder of the fact that how beautiful endings could be.
That street food trail in Charminar, Hyderabad showed me the passion and the pride people have in their food.
That humble thukpa on my birthday morning in Spiti was warm in all senses and brought out fuzzy feelings in me.
Those kebabs and chaat in Lucknow exhibited the history they contained in each bite.
That humble meal at a homestay in Darap, Sikkim directed me to the possibility of becoming one with the nature through a meal.
And very recently, the late night wine under that Bhutan sky unfolded stories, which we will cherish for rest of our lives.
Traveling is a reminder for me. It reminds me of who I am truly. It takes me to the open fields, the free flowing rivers, the magnificent mountains, the never ending roads, the cotton candy like clouds in the sky, the bridges adorned with prayer flags and to the streets where everyone is stranger yet a friend.
Until I travel again.