In the Company of Women

Mountain territory on mules and pujas by the river, a walk in the clouds at Kedarnath, a peaceful darshan at Badrinath. There was more. ‘‘The aarti at Haridwar, the spectacular Himalayas, the force and the soft dance of the Ganges at Gangotri, these images will stay for a long time,’’ says Palomita.

ROAD SISTERS: Despite stinky rooms and greedy priests, this trip made more memories for them than any other. ‘‘One place in Rampur was so dirty that Tarini pointed to the bed and said, ‘I can’t even put my nail on this.’ All of it was so radical for us, dirty rooms, creepy crawlies, lights going out, but it was fun because together we could crack up about it.’’

MAN METER:‘‘The guide was our age and he spoilt us. He gave us good rooms, took us on out-of-the-way walks at Auli, arranged hot water for us at 2 am and on the last day, even made us the kheer we had appreciated earlier on in the trip,’’ says Palomita.

Cold Comfort
SNOWFALL outside, hot momos with spicy chutney inside. It was white magic for 26-year-olds Priya Nair, Shital Agarwal and Anuradha Vaz on their recent trip to Sikkim. ‘‘Only four of the eight cars going to Changu Lake made it,’’ recollects Shital, a banker, who along with her friends had joined a group of college students for the trip. ‘‘The car skidded and made nearly 360 º turns. We prayed. When we reached the lake it came down, in white soft flakes,’’ says Priya, a journalist. ‘‘It was so cold we would get into shops just to stay warm and eat momos, but it was our first experience of snow and we didn’t feel like coming back,’’ adds Shital, laughing, about the high point of their Kolkata-Darjeeling-Gangtok journey.

ROAD SISTERS: They’re college buddies but had never spent a night at each other’s place. ‘‘This was the first time we were together for two weeks, five of us in a room. We fought like true siblings over who would use the bathrooms first since sometimes there was hot water for only a couple of hours.’’

MAN METER: At Gangtok they wanted to get a cab but no one would take more than four passengers. ‘‘We went to a traffic policeman and told him one of us would be left behind. He actually hailed us a cab,’’ says Shital. And in Darjeeling, hardly anyone ventures out after dark. ‘‘But we were out one evening. A cop came up to us and asked us where we were from. He then asked us concerned questions about our trip and if anyone had misbehaved or overcharged us.’’

Sunscreen, Sand and Surf
A GOLDEN beach in the background, sunscreen in hand, smiles in place. It was New Year’s eve in Goa and college friends Sukhmani Malik, Bianca Gill and Ruchika Tomar made sure they caught the first rays of the sun.

‘‘We occasionally head out on our own,’’ says Bianca, 22, ‘‘doing everything from mapping out routes to making hotel reservations’’.

No regular sightseeing for these young women from Chandigarh, though they did hit the sand and the surf. And took long walks on Anjuna beach, 8 km from Mapusa. It was, however, Anjuna’s flea markets that caught their fancy. ‘‘We spent the day browsing, while the evenings were best spent at the shacks, there are so many of them!’’ says Sukhmani, 21.

ROAD SISTERS: ‘‘The best part about being on an all girls’ trip is the sense of independence it gives,’’ says Bianca. ‘‘There’s no one to rush us. When we are together we travel at our own pace,’’ says Sukhmani.

MAN METER: This is what partying till four in the morning can do to you. ‘‘We were looking for a taxi to get back to the hotel,’’ recalls Sukhmani, ‘‘when we saw one approaching. The driver, with his head outside, was screaming ‘Taxi, Taxi’ and before we could flag him down, Bianca hurled the choicest abuses which left both the driver and us shocked.’’ ‘‘That’s because I thought he was yelling out ‘Sexy, Sexy’,’’ chuckles Bianca who got her share of abuses back from a rather irritated cabbie.

Midway Mazaa
A BEACH was the only criterion this group of seven from Pune had in mind when they headed out. ‘‘We took a jetty to Mandwa, then took a bus and just got off mid-way,’’ says Ruchi Mohan, 25, a corporate sales manager.

Close to 10 at night, the girls (Yogini Kulkarni, Rinku Patel, Vrunda Desai, Pratima Kore, Kanchan Jachak, Shalaka K and Ruchi) discovered they were at a place called Awas, close to Alibaug. ‘‘We were lucky to find some cottages for rent a little away from the beach,’’ she adds. Midnight walks, renting bicycles, playing cards, and chilling on their own—‘‘it was all about roughing it out,’’ and getting high on life.

ROAD SISTERS: ‘‘All of us got a little high and played truth or dare. That’s when we discovered a lot of bizarre secrets about each other. Though we’ve always been close, we ended up finding out a whole lot more!’’ says Ruchi.

MAN METER: High in Awas? Where do you think the booze came from? ‘‘We manaoed the cottage caretaker,’’ grins Ruchi.

Jagmeeta Thind Joy in Chandigarh; Monica Bathija in Mumbai
and Preeti Raghuath in Pune

Merry Migration
EDINBURGH is at all times cold, dark and dank. The rain streaks down in silver streamers, and the wind whistles relentlessly, nudging the seventh floor of the Department of Literature, University of Edinburgh, where four mittened friends were huddled one morning.

At the instant when the plummet seemed inevitable, Astrid Van Weyenberg, Elisabeth Dodds, Martha Magor and I realised simultaneously, as good friends do, that our seasonal migration must commence. Four frozen forms congregated at The Pear Tree pub and began their drive to the highlands of Glencoe. The drive lasted several hours, for we stopped often for haggis at tacky tourist retreats, and by chilly abandoned castles and glassy lakes, to immortalise our friendship on film.

The YMCA had shared toilets and bunk beds and we eschewed its communal delights in favour of the local down the road. Several hours of merrymaking later, we were requested politely to leave, never return, and for Lord’s sake, put those accursed cameras away.

The next morning we began our hike. For four hours, Elisabeth and Martha forged ahead singing blithely about Edelweiss, while Astrid and I, tripod in tow, stumbled and cursed behind them. When we reached the flat golden expanse at the top we stopped our songs for the music of the wind in the face of the setting sun was nature’s orchestra at its grandest. We collapsed on the heather panting wildly and sweating tears, and yet we were as we have always been in each other’s company, gloriously happy.

MAN METER: On our return, our best friend George Hunter was deluged with a stuffed highland cow, highland taffy, highland cookies and highland tales. He swore never to miss another trip, and surreptitiously gave the cow to the girl next door.

Sonia Faleiro