Thank God for holidays!

Time was — in the 1920’s and 30’s in India — when people had no concept of holidays in an exclusive sense. It was part of a larger whole, another day or more days in a long run of days when one worked, slept, played, procreated, and laughed and cried

Life was to be taken a day at a time: seasons came and went predictably, smoothly as if on oiled wheels. Births, marriages, deaths were all part of the inexplicable mystery of life. And so, in the time of my mother’s growing up in Palakkad in Kerala, a totally different Palakkad from now, the nearest thing to a holiday would be the time of the great festival in their little village of Peruvembu.

All the members of the joint family — which included my grandfather and my grandmother who was his third wife and who had embraced the children of his two other deceased wives, all numbering to about 14 or 15, not counting various aunts and uncles and progeny — went to the family temple in Peruvembu.

Once a year the oil for the innumerable lamps around the temple was provided for by the family and the festival was therefore called vilakku... So if the vilakku was on Monday, on the evening of Sunday the whole family would go by bullock cart to a little house my grandfather had in Peruvembu. And as they set out along the rutted tracks in the middle of paddy fields, they probably teased one another and pulled each other’s plaits, for what can be more tempting than the serpent-like hair down one’s back?

The next day, all dolled up, the girls in gleaming silk pavadais and hair oiled and plaited, and the men in new mundus,  they would set off at dusk for the family temple nearby to see its rows of oil lamps outside the walls sparkling and gleaming in the dusk and to pay obeisance to the goddess within. And that was it.

My aunt, now 89, remembers other vacations, always centred around a temple. This was in another little village called Pudusseri, also in Kerala, where my grandfather was posted. She remembers being woken up at 4 am to receive the velichappad who, inhabited by the devi, would foretell future events, give instructions, and finally give the prasadam. She remembers sitting in a circle with all other cousins (what a big circle that must have been) in the afternoons wearing old clothes, or probably no clothes if they were little, and being given nongu or ice apple to eat. It left stains on clothes, hence the sartorial caution!

Twenty years later, fast forwarded to my times — the 1940’s onwards, people normally went on holidays to their relatives’ houses. My neighbour remembers going every summer from Chennai, where their father was posted, to Mangalore to both grandparents’ houses. There they were joined by lots of other cousins, aunts and uncles.

Those were the days when everyone had a minimum of three children, so for every tier or age group there were bound to be companions. They had no fixed agenda, no plans to sightsee or eat out (any restaurants in a small village in Mangalore besides the ubiquitous teashop?).

In the evenings, they were all sent to the maidan to play and they always took what they thought was the short cut but which meant climbing mud walls, running through fields when invariably one or the other would fall down and graze knees and an older child would try to clean it up, etc. And when they returned home by that very short cut they would not be allowed in immediately but had to bathe their scruffy selves in hot water which was heated over firewood and stored in brass andas in the bathroom  which was outside the house.

Then they would be given water cooled in mud pots and palm jaggery rounds in cane holders. My friend says they were as good as electrolytes. Nobody looked beyond the horizon of their fields and houses. Travel meant the meeting of familiar faces in familiar places, secure and safe.

I remember going to relatives’ houses too for summer holidays. And they came over the next year. Eight children and four adults to be fed four full meals every day for one full month. Mornings were play time — no TV or board games even. We invented. In the afternoons, we had to come inside for the adults had their siesta and it was hot outside. And in the evenings, we played again. And never got bored. Never had to be entertained.

Occasionally, families would go on slightly more sophisticated trips to the hill stations which were Ooty, Kodaikanal, Yercaud or Bangalore. Out would come the cardigans and the shawls and the coats. Socks would be put on and my father who had a cap fetish would gear himself up with a variety of head covers! We visited the Botanical Gardens for the Flower Show in Ooty, boated in Kodaikanal, walked in Yercaud and visited the Lalbagh in Bangalore.

Slowly, the idea of pilgrimage travel ventured in. I remember when we were in the lovely temple town of Madurai, during the summer, we often had relatives who came to be with us and also go to Rameswaram. We never looked north: it was again what was near and possible — Guruvayoor, Tirupathi, Palani, etc.

Cut to the next three decades. Horizons broadened. Honeymooners were no longer willing to stick to their own borders. Northerners came down to enjoy the lushness of Kerala and Karnataka, going to Cochin and Coorg; southerners travelled to Kashmir and of course, Rajasthan, the land of palaces and forts. Pilgrimages widened their scope and included Melkote, Kollur, Dharmasthala, Tiruvannamalai and Thanjavur — that doyen of temple towns, and of course, the northernmost pilgrimage centres of the Himalayas. Slowly Singapore, Malaysia and Bali became the playing grounds of those who could afford it. And travel agencies flourished.

The last decade has seen the imagination of the Indian tourist take wing like never before, untrammelled by costs, due to a burgeoning economy, proliferation of jobs in the IT sector, and a two-income family. A passport in the old days was a badge of honour simply because it was a rarity. Now it seems to be a birthright. Young couples go on annual trips either abroad or to hitherto unknown destinations or destinations which simply never occurred to anyone as attractive, like the Andamans.

Travel has got invested with glamour while remaining within the perimeter of affordability. Holidays have become a time to explore the unknown, and with one’s spouse, friends or family. It seems weird that forsaking the habits of our grandfathers we now go seeking ‘home comforts and ambience’ in the scores of home stays that are proliferating, particularly in Kodagu.

People plan for holidays days in advance, clicking the mouse which snakes its way through itineraries and destinations, timetables and air fares. Travel agents are cashing in on this yen for the unknown by devising travelling ‘with a difference’.

For example, one ‘spiritual tour in Peru’ advertises expeditions to the sacred sites of Peru by a well-known Inca messenger who is also a clairvoyant with incoming messages for travellers. Then there are eco tours, trekking tours, wine tours, cooking tours, rafting tours, mountain climbing groups, gambling tours, etc. I read that travel writer Rishad Saam Mehta did a customised driving holiday in the Bavarian region in a screaming red Ferrari. Indulge your desire to drive in a car you may never be able to possess but is yours to purr with for three days with stays in luxurious hotels on the way. Why not?

If you do not want to drive or fly, the other option now are cruises, through the splendid fjords of Norway, or the Caribbean or Alaska or the ultimate one   — to Antarctica. And if you do not fancy any international destination and want to explore your own backyard, there are many options there too. Closer home, Karnataka never ceases to surprise for home grown sights and sounds.

The sandy beach of Karwar, said to be the most beautiful beach in India, living in coffee plantations at blossom time, the old colonial bungalows at Tanneerhalla in Kodagu, game sanctuaries like the ones on River Kabini or the enchanting B R Hills with hummingbirds that whirr with jewel wings on your veranda, the glorious pinnacle of power at Hampi set among the dramatic boulders of the Tungabhadra, the mosques at Bidar, Gulbarga and Bijapur, glowing Jain basadis. The list is endless even if you do not want to be in a red Ferrari.

And in the future, a trip to the Moon or the other planets. Who knows? The sky is indeed the limit!