Ocean’s eleven

I recently went on a short trip to a seaside town with a group of mostly middle-aged working women, and it was indeed a trip to remember. We met at the railway station and chatted about husbands stranded at home with zero-knowledge of cooking, much at the mercy of food delivery boys; and teenage children who were more than happy to send away their hovering moms.

Once we boarded the train, the clanging of the wheels steered our conversation, too, away from the humdrum of the household. We chattered on about being free from domestic responsibilities for two full days and being on our own. As the train moved away from home, we seemed to get younger, and the compartment was filled with our silly jokes and senseless laughter. I was reminded of my college days and of the educational trips I went on with my friends. We were teenagers once again.

As the night wore on, we realised we were teenagers only so far as our endless giggles and jokes went. Several of us were given upper berths and made quite a sight climbing them with our 40-something, inflexible bodies. Some of us eventually did it with a lot of cheering from our friends and fellow travellers in the nearby coaches. I confess that I felt like I had conquered Mount Everest with all the cheering. No less a feat, I guess.

The next day, we arrived and headed straight to the beach. Lo and behold, we, the middle-aged women, were back to being teenagers, prancing on the waves, collecting shells, and squealing every time the waves rushed towards us. Age and worldly worries seemed to wash away as we spent a considerable amount of time trying to make Instagram reels to mimic the fads of our teenagers. And we were reasonably good at it, aided by a friendly neighbourhood lifeguard who readily became an impromptu director and cinematographer.

Our bird-watching expedition the following day was somewhat a dampener as we spent more time trying to get the focus right in our binoculars than actually watch birds. Of course, we managed to catch sight of a few exotic birds.

The sunset was magical. As the tides set in, the sun went down, and the waves glimmered as gold, we stood together—11 women, from different walks of life, world-worn with so many different stories of our own, but mesmerised and rejuvenated by the beauty of nature. Right by my side was a little sisterhood—fellow travellers with life’s wondrous strokes in each
of them.