<p>Ever found yourself staring at your reflection in still waters and an uncustomary drop falls and breaks the stillness, causing infinite ripples? This is the moment of magic, when you suddenly see your reflection not as what it is, but as what the ripples do to it. Something new, something enlightening. </p>.<p><br />That’s how I feel about travelling. I’m not going to tell you what you may have heard <br />others say about traveling, how it’s all about ‘getting away from the madness’. For I believe life is not all that bad that it would require constant escapes. I’m not held captive in my house, my phone, my job, my city life. Travelling to me is my vantage point, my binoculars. I just see more, breathe more, feel more, absorb more, let go more and learn more.<br /><br />I travel to find my ripple, the peace of temporary unsettled existence and moving perspective of the vast space surrounding me. <br /><br />As a ‘girl’ traveller in India, I find myself limited by my gender, but that in no way is detrimental to my exploration. Though I believe in no such concept, traveling is not sexist. I am a traveller. The breasts and the skirts are complimentary!I have just come back from a six-day long island hopping from the magnificent Andaman Islands. <br /><br />The deep tan is a lovely reminder of the beauty that I witnessed. Andaman is unlike any place I have seen and felt. Its history precedes itself. The weight of the agonising past of the freedom struggle has in no way tarnished the purity of the islands. The islands instantly engulf you with a surging passion, not at all hardened by its cruel past, only proud that it saw the country through the struggle with brave freedom fighters to its name. <br /><br />The deathly gallows of the Cellular Jail sent shivers down my spine, the pain and the horrors ever so resounding. Spent a day walking around in Port Blair, visiting the museums, brushing up on what’s to come.<br /><br />I walked my way to the jetty, from where I would take a ferry to Ross Island. The first sight of crystal turquoise blue water. It was like a painting, only better. The sun and the water conspiring to create bright colours that go as far as your eye can. Beautiful shades of blue, green, white and all that’s godly.<br /><br />A pint-sized island, packed with a pristine secluded beach, beautiful friendly deers, crawler trees with roots taking over the abandoned printing press. Among all the magic happening on the island, the one thing that caught my fancy were the crawler trees. <br /><br />They appear like an eco-system of large tentacle-like roots that are trying to weave a web to cover all which has no place on the island, things made of bricks and cement. Things that belong someplace else, but not on the island that thrives on simplicity. The trees are covering up the existence of a painful history. <br /><br />Next on the list was the North Bay island, this is where my life changed. <br />This beach is plush with sea life and coral reefs, and the water is so clear that you can peer into the sea life underneath. But I wanted to go deep, much deep.<br /><br />So I took the plunge here. I signed up for scuba diving. Now the big deal about this is that I am extremely afraid of being underwater, I can’t swim. The adrenalin of feeling fear and longing to dive is unmatched. To say, that I had butterflies in my stomach would be an understatement, it was more like giant moths fluttering left-right, everywhere in my body, screeching to get out. <br /><br />So if it’s anything to go by, all the Zindagi Milegi Na Dobara reference of scuba is all true. It does change your life, it does make you feel small and insignificant, and all your first to third world problems cease to exist. All the creatures underneath are not surviving, they are living, and that’s what I want to do, and that’s what you should be doing as well.<br /><br />It was difficult for me at first, to let go of my fear and to just immerse myself in faith and longing, I almost called it off while training. My scuba instructor is to blame and thank to drag me 20 metres downtown, where the sea life comes to party. <br /><br />He said one thing and one thing alone: “If your heart races with fear right now, it will calm down only if you jump. Also, fishes are super fancy and cute.”<br /><br />So I plunged, into an everlasting slow motion of colourful grace. Where sounds become irrelevant and vision most important. <br /><br />What you see is how you feel and feelings keep changing at shutter speed. One minute feeling the orange and white of a clown fish, and then suddenly I am blue, red, black of a fish I don’t know the name of. I touched the coral. A zillion kinds are down there, I managed to touch a few, and they all had distinct sensation. It was beautiful. I go back to this memory every time I feel like I have a problem. <br /><br />Among the many memorable things I experienced at the islands is having the privilege of spotting the Jarawa tribe. They were beautiful and primitive. They held on to their basics ever so gracefully and happily. They live in dense tropical forests of the island, and I can only imagine what that’s like. <br /><br />I witnessed the famous sunset of Radhanagar beach. The water ever so pristine. Walk on the beach and find all the pieces to whatever is puzzling you. It’s therapeutic. <br />My favourite beach at Havelock was Kala Pathar. Secluded and honest. You’ll just see crystal blue all around you, with very few signs of human invasion, the water gracefully merging with white sand. <br /><br />It’s perfect for sea-shell collectors. I came with my bag clunking away. <br />I also managed to visit the Baratang Island and the Limestone caves that the sea has left behind for us to exploit and adore. It’s 1.2 km walk, through the gorgeous backwaters and the wilderness. <br /><br />The islands of Andaman & Nicobar, once disputed, now free, remain my most cherished places and a constant reminder that when you are an island, living with a probability of drowning, you live to be beautiful and not fearful.<br /><br />I haven’t taken a piece of the islands with me, it’s too beautiful to be uprooted. I have <br />simply left a part of me there, lest the islands ever feel lonely in the ocean. My <br />Andaman ripple. </p>
<p>Ever found yourself staring at your reflection in still waters and an uncustomary drop falls and breaks the stillness, causing infinite ripples? This is the moment of magic, when you suddenly see your reflection not as what it is, but as what the ripples do to it. Something new, something enlightening. </p>.<p><br />That’s how I feel about travelling. I’m not going to tell you what you may have heard <br />others say about traveling, how it’s all about ‘getting away from the madness’. For I believe life is not all that bad that it would require constant escapes. I’m not held captive in my house, my phone, my job, my city life. Travelling to me is my vantage point, my binoculars. I just see more, breathe more, feel more, absorb more, let go more and learn more.<br /><br />I travel to find my ripple, the peace of temporary unsettled existence and moving perspective of the vast space surrounding me. <br /><br />As a ‘girl’ traveller in India, I find myself limited by my gender, but that in no way is detrimental to my exploration. Though I believe in no such concept, traveling is not sexist. I am a traveller. The breasts and the skirts are complimentary!I have just come back from a six-day long island hopping from the magnificent Andaman Islands. <br /><br />The deep tan is a lovely reminder of the beauty that I witnessed. Andaman is unlike any place I have seen and felt. Its history precedes itself. The weight of the agonising past of the freedom struggle has in no way tarnished the purity of the islands. The islands instantly engulf you with a surging passion, not at all hardened by its cruel past, only proud that it saw the country through the struggle with brave freedom fighters to its name. <br /><br />The deathly gallows of the Cellular Jail sent shivers down my spine, the pain and the horrors ever so resounding. Spent a day walking around in Port Blair, visiting the museums, brushing up on what’s to come.<br /><br />I walked my way to the jetty, from where I would take a ferry to Ross Island. The first sight of crystal turquoise blue water. It was like a painting, only better. The sun and the water conspiring to create bright colours that go as far as your eye can. Beautiful shades of blue, green, white and all that’s godly.<br /><br />A pint-sized island, packed with a pristine secluded beach, beautiful friendly deers, crawler trees with roots taking over the abandoned printing press. Among all the magic happening on the island, the one thing that caught my fancy were the crawler trees. <br /><br />They appear like an eco-system of large tentacle-like roots that are trying to weave a web to cover all which has no place on the island, things made of bricks and cement. Things that belong someplace else, but not on the island that thrives on simplicity. The trees are covering up the existence of a painful history. <br /><br />Next on the list was the North Bay island, this is where my life changed. <br />This beach is plush with sea life and coral reefs, and the water is so clear that you can peer into the sea life underneath. But I wanted to go deep, much deep.<br /><br />So I took the plunge here. I signed up for scuba diving. Now the big deal about this is that I am extremely afraid of being underwater, I can’t swim. The adrenalin of feeling fear and longing to dive is unmatched. To say, that I had butterflies in my stomach would be an understatement, it was more like giant moths fluttering left-right, everywhere in my body, screeching to get out. <br /><br />So if it’s anything to go by, all the Zindagi Milegi Na Dobara reference of scuba is all true. It does change your life, it does make you feel small and insignificant, and all your first to third world problems cease to exist. All the creatures underneath are not surviving, they are living, and that’s what I want to do, and that’s what you should be doing as well.<br /><br />It was difficult for me at first, to let go of my fear and to just immerse myself in faith and longing, I almost called it off while training. My scuba instructor is to blame and thank to drag me 20 metres downtown, where the sea life comes to party. <br /><br />He said one thing and one thing alone: “If your heart races with fear right now, it will calm down only if you jump. Also, fishes are super fancy and cute.”<br /><br />So I plunged, into an everlasting slow motion of colourful grace. Where sounds become irrelevant and vision most important. <br /><br />What you see is how you feel and feelings keep changing at shutter speed. One minute feeling the orange and white of a clown fish, and then suddenly I am blue, red, black of a fish I don’t know the name of. I touched the coral. A zillion kinds are down there, I managed to touch a few, and they all had distinct sensation. It was beautiful. I go back to this memory every time I feel like I have a problem. <br /><br />Among the many memorable things I experienced at the islands is having the privilege of spotting the Jarawa tribe. They were beautiful and primitive. They held on to their basics ever so gracefully and happily. They live in dense tropical forests of the island, and I can only imagine what that’s like. <br /><br />I witnessed the famous sunset of Radhanagar beach. The water ever so pristine. Walk on the beach and find all the pieces to whatever is puzzling you. It’s therapeutic. <br />My favourite beach at Havelock was Kala Pathar. Secluded and honest. You’ll just see crystal blue all around you, with very few signs of human invasion, the water gracefully merging with white sand. <br /><br />It’s perfect for sea-shell collectors. I came with my bag clunking away. <br />I also managed to visit the Baratang Island and the Limestone caves that the sea has left behind for us to exploit and adore. It’s 1.2 km walk, through the gorgeous backwaters and the wilderness. <br /><br />The islands of Andaman & Nicobar, once disputed, now free, remain my most cherished places and a constant reminder that when you are an island, living with a probability of drowning, you live to be beautiful and not fearful.<br /><br />I haven’t taken a piece of the islands with me, it’s too beautiful to be uprooted. I have <br />simply left a part of me there, lest the islands ever feel lonely in the ocean. My <br />Andaman ripple. </p>
