MADTROTTER

You might have already figured this out from my last name, that I’m a Bengali. While I no longer live in Calcutta (yes, I come from a time when it still used to be Calcutta or Cal, not Kolkata), I can’t seem to stay away from it either. It has a strange inexplicable way of pulling me back.

I did my undergraduate studies from Manipal. It’s a different story how I landed up in advertising after studying engineering. But in those four years that I spent tucked away in a corner of Karnataka surrounded by beautiful unending Arabian coastlines, we did our fair share of day trips. And the closest and the most popular amongst my group of friends was a quick ride down to the Hoode beach.

Even as I started this blog, I knew I’d have to approach this subject sooner than later. The question becomes why now? Because now more than ever at the wake of of what happened to Nirbhaya in Delhi this year, the narrative behind what it means to be a woman in India is a sore discussion point for the country. While everyone is quick to point the dangers surrounding a lone woman these days - few lend any hope or help to assuage the fears. If we were to believe the people and what media says about these times - we are doomed to live in a perpetual victimhood. Scores of traveller-bloggers have tried to present a fresh perspective for women travelling solo in India; I have yet to meet a fellow Indian woman on the road. Maybe there are too few, too far apart to make each other’s acquaintance. Implying that the subject is still at its nascent stages of discussion. Having said that, I have indeed met countless foreigners (women) travelling alone. Getting used to the idea I was t

I’m not much of a wildlife enthusiast. That’s not to say I don’t love animals. It’s just that I have very limited knowledge. For example, I cannot differentiate a cheetal from a sambar (haw!). If someone pointed out and said “Oh! Look! There goes a sambar” or “Look at that cheetal by the water hole”, I know they mean a type of deer, but the specifics end there. My literature on wildlife goes as far as The Animal Farm. But none of this kept me from travelling to the Ranthambore National Park (New year, 2014).

A private paradise An amateur at best, my tryst with the DSLR started two years ago when my mom gifted me a Nikon D3100 for my twenty-fourth birthday. And Gung-ho! I was reading up into all sorts of camera logic and clicking away madly at anything and everything. Naturally, my knowledge of photography has been purely based out of trial-and-error.

Every year the Indian Konkan Coast swells with tourists and travellers looking for fun in the sun and sand. In laidback Tarkarli and Deobag, however, it’s as much about what to do as it’s about who’s next door. Chances are that you’ll be by yourself, despite the peak seasons (fingers crossed).