When leaving for a solo journey, you are not merely exploring new places, you’re about to start on a profound voyage of self-discovery. It’s often recommended that, before setting out on your travels, you write a letter to yourself. Then, as you return, you write another letter, and you’ll be amazed at how the author of the two letters isn’t the same person anymore!
As part of my MBA curriculum, I recently had the opportunity to travel to Chennai for an internship at Apollo Hospitals headquarters for about 2 months. But, before I dive into my experiences, allow me to provide some context. Coming from a North Indian business family, I hadn’t had many opportunities to explore the world. My father’s commitment to his business meant that family vacations were a rarity. Even exploring my own state freely was a luxury I hadn’t experienced. I was accustomed to being chauffeured to school, college, and tuition. Over time, I developed a comforting routine of occupying the passenger seat, enjoying the sights and sounds of the road, breathing the fresh air, humming along to tunes, and indulging in a variety of snacks. All of this made me forget what it was like to drive the steering wheel and set the accelerator at my own pace.
To hype up matters, after my graduation, I chose to prepare for the coveted Civil Services Examination, a path that demanded isolation from social life, gatherings, and certainly, travel. My days began at 4 a.m. with yoga, followed by extensive study sessions, broken up only by brief breaks. The COVID-19 restrictions loomed, making the urge to escape and explore even more compelling. I would sit by my bedroom window, gazing at the iron grills, yearning for a more experiential and fulfilling life. That’s often the way Indian children are raised, focusing on acing exams and only then having the chance to truly live.
Against this backdrop, a Delhi girl, on a flight bound for Chennai, packed with cotton clothes for the South Indian summer, penned this letter. It was filled with positivity, prayers, and ambitious optimism for my professional journey, along with a long list of places to visit and discover personally. I was surrendering myself to destiny, ready to transform me on my very first solo adventure.
I believe if there’s one word that perfectly describes my solo adventure in Chennai, it would be ‘Magical’.
If I were to describe how Chennai was “the first” in a thousand different ways, it would require a whole separate account. So, let me focus on what Chennai taught me.
From the vibrant murals on the walls to the crispy ghee-roasted dishes, the fragrance of malippo (jasmine flower garlands) adorning my hair, to the refreshing drizzles of rain, the beaches, and, of course, the people. When a city embraces you with open arms, every moment spent exploring new places, eating local cuisine, visiting temples, and enjoying the beaches feels like an act of liberation, and trust in your positive instincts. I can still feel the cold waters of the Indian Ocean on the famous Marina beach and the dizzy sensation I felt as the waves receded from my feet. I can vividly recall a moment when staring at the limitless ocean from a boat ride in Pondicherry caused me to momentarily forget the familiar iron grills outside my window. At that very instant, it wasn’t just a feeling, it was a profound sense of gratitude that washed over me. Traveling to new horizons thus reveals how small we are in the grand scheme of things, humbling us in the process. Even the numerous seashells I collected remind me of the wonders each passing day brought my way.
A solo trip also teaches you a unique form of adulting. Negotiating rent with the landlord for a wonderful women’s PG, haggling over auto fares, and deciphering local restaurant menus through Google, all while adhering to a self-imposed budget and curfew hours, is a valuable learning experience. To be honest, the part of me that preferred staying in her comfort zone urged me to remain within the confines of my hostel room after office hours and on weekends. But the constantly ticking departure date urged me to seize every opportunity during this solo journey. The extrovert in me craved meeting new people, and engaging in little conversations with strangers, be it flower vendors or street food sellers. It was the warmth in their eyes that made me feel welcome and brought smiles to my face.
When I talk about the people of Chennai, I must say that I had been misinformed about their bias against North Indians. They embraced me from day one. From the ladies at the hostel to my colleagues at the office, even the office peons, everyone taught me about various food combinations like mixing oil with podi (spicy powder), shared hearty laughs of cuteness and embarrassment over our broken Hindi and Tamil, and treated me like a daughter. This was evident in my office lunch plate, adorned daily with dishes from at least eight different households!
If I were to offer advice on interacting with a diverse group of people, I would say that oil and water never mix until one of them is willing to let go of their differences to merge with the other. This is precisely what I consciously practiced in Chennai. I didn’t lose my unique personality and individuality, but I tried to become more flexible and open to different cultures, conversations, and etiquette. The result? I seamlessly blended with the people I interacted with, earning the best compliment I could hope for: ‘Parul, you seem like you’ve been living here in Chennai for a long time.’
All in all, solo travel introduced me to a refined, freer, and more fearless version of myself. This version is adept at self-care and skillful in creating a sense of home in unfamiliar lands. As I wrote a letter on the return flight to Delhi, tear stains marked the pages, each word echoing with gratitude and each pen stroke brimming with contentment. It reminded me of the old saying, ‘Everything that goes, indeed returns, but what returns is never the same as what sets off.’
