Pens and Pages

My stories of sheer stupidity needs documenting. This one needs to be a blog post for when my memory wouldn’t remind me of the glorious night that kept from an epic trip to an epic failure within minutes, this post would always be there to remind me of my experience. It was all going well – as planned. I met Vibhor (Dhote) in the Zagreb Bus Terminal on an early morning to reach Plitvice by noon. Of course we had some trouble finding each other in the terminal because I had no internet connection and I went to the wrong shop at first, but my memory doesn’t aid me with those details for what entailed in the evening was far more chaotic. In a nutshell, we met each other just in time to catch the bus Dhote had booked. Yes, the credits of planning the trip goes to Dhote for I love it to just show up and go with the flow. I remember the previous evening at Zagreb, all I did was ask the hostel receptionist to tell me about the important spots, take a map from him and just walk whereve...

I am at Budapest now, in a safe and comfortable hostel, as I narrate my story of a few days back. Strange is this age when we think we are capable of experiencing all kinds of adventures. Maybe we are, when we leave matters at the hands of destiny, situations and have a strong belief that in the end all would be well. Or maybe we aren’t, maybe we just experience one fluke after another until the day the bank of chances will run out of serendipity. It was at Nice where I was supposed to spend the late hours of night; I had a train to catch at five in the morning and I reached Nice at around midnight. The time from midnight till dawn was supposed to be spent walking around the city – after all, why would a youngster give in to spending money and sleeping in a hostel just for some five hours? Europe has been a place of freedom for a woman like me. I can never imagine roaming around the streets of Gurgaon, where my college MDI is located, in the evening. Traveling around Delhi at nig...