In 2016, proper earlier than I turned 21, I set out on what felt like an audacious odyssey: travelling from my residence in Hyderabad to the daunting, chaotic metropolis of Mumbai. Wanting to spend my birthday away felt like revolt. I don’t bear in mind precisely how I satisfied my mother and father, however I believe it concerned my aunt and an in depth buddy who lived there on the time — plus a number of half-truths and loads of reassurances that I might be high quality. Little did I do know I might be giving out reassurances even a decade later, that I understand how to be protected and conscious of my environment whereas travelling solo as a lady.
Key Monastry, Spiti Valley | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
Over two days, my buddy and I wandered town of goals: taking kaali peelis to Marine Drive, sharing one cup of tea at Leopold Café, window-shopping at Colaba Market, and stretching our shoestring finances so far as it will go. It was July, the height of the monsoon in Mumbai, once we ventured into Chor Bazaar. I purchased an previous Amitabh Bachchan film poster for my father, crammed up my new with digital camera 100 pictures, and ate vada pav within the rain.
I got here residence feeling as if I had conquered the world. It was determined. I vowed to journey solo each birthday from then on, to have a good time with myself. And I saved that promise, barring the years the pandemic stole, and others when my job saved me busy.
In 2017, I had began incomes from my first job which was fully unrelated to my diploma. The thrill of getting each cash and freedom was intoxicating, so I went huge. I signed up for a 10-day group journey to Ladakh with strangers I met on Instagram. Most of my financial savings vanished into the journey price, which didn’t embody flights. To lower prices, I flew out and in of Srinagar as a substitute of Leh — a mistake I nonetheless remorse.
Srinagar | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
That journey seems like a fever dream. Ladakh is a kind of locations you don’t imagine exists till you see it your self. I used to be decided to return with 1000’s of pictures, to play them on our household TV and show to my mother and father that my hard-earned cash working night-shifts was not going to waste. But the mountains took from me as a lot as they gave. On the best way again to Srinagar, our share taxi stopped at a tea stall in Kargil at midnight. The subsequent morning it felt like waking up from a nightmare, and realising it wasn’t one. My pockets, with minimal money, and the 32 GB reminiscence card with about 10,000 pictures from the final 10 days was left behind on the tea stall. I usually assume to myself that perhaps these mountains, the sand dunes, the galaxies, and the apricot bushes weren’t meant to be shared. A visit I took, only for myself.
Spiti Valley | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
So I did it once more. In 2018, I went on one other journey, with strangers once more. Spiti Valley was as brutal because it was stunning. The rain, the mist, the skinny air — every part examined me. Days had been spent in bone-rattling rides alongside cliffside routes, nights in freezing guesthouses with little greater than blankets and dialog to maintain us heat. The panorama appeared prefer it had been carved by some divine hand: stark monasteries perched on inconceivable cliffs, rivers that appeared out of nowhere, and skies so huge they made you are feeling each insignificant and infinite directly. I guarded the reminiscence card with my life, and managed to carry all of it again. Those pictures made their method into three artwork galleries that 12 months. I ponder what number of galleries the shot of Milky Way from Pangong Tso, Ladakh would have made it into.
More importantly, these pictures made it on to the household TV. My mother and father appeared to attempt to perceive why this insanity of taking up the world on my own was so necessary to me, however solely after I gave many extra reassurances. “I journey with simply sufficient money, I at all times preserve necessary paperwork in my backpack, I carry a pepper spray, I might by no means eat or drink something handed to me by a stranger, I’ve my guard up,” I’d say time and again like a plea.
Spiti Valley | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
And then the pandemic hit. In 2020 and 2021 I turned 25 after which 26 whereas baking desserts and desserts for myself. From lemon olive oil cake that my mom stated tasted like dish cleaning soap to a decadent tiramisu fully created from scratch (sure the mascarpone too), which each my mother and father discovered bitter. I totally loved them each, pairing every chew with a beneficiant facet of existential dread.
Lemon olive oil cake | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
In 2022, whereas working my first job as a journalist, I lastly discovered the audacity to take the go away I used to be entitled to and determined it was the proper time for my first journey to Goa. I spent 4 days doing virtually nothing: beer on the seaside, a e book in hand, a sandwich for firm. When the rain let up, I employed a scooty and drove aimlessly, and ate ross omelette at roadside stalls. One day I volunteered at a café, baked bread of their kitchen, and ended the night enjoying poker with the chef and the proprietor and gained ₹500. Beginner’s luck! By the time I left, I knew I needed to come again, and I did, which is a narrative for an additional day.
Goa’s butterfly seaside | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
I landed in Chennai in late 2023 after not celebrating my birthday that 12 months. I needed to redeem myself, and shortly determined to make the most of the various small hillside cities close by. My coronary heart was set on Kodaikanal. I made a decision to show 29 there, consuming pastries from an area bakery, and shelling out an exorbitant sum to the taxi mafia. I stumbled upon a tiny pizzeria, run out of the proprietor’s kitchen, the place I handled myself to a birthday lunch. I wandered the city, prevented the vacationer traps, and spent Sunday morning on the native market, choosing up purple chillies to make sizzling sauce. Back in my tiny one-bedroom condo, the sauce fermented a little bit an excessive amount of and almost exploded — my most unstable birthday memento but.
Kodaikanal | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
The factor no one tells you about turning 30 is that it seems like you will have gained a struggle. Not towards anybody else, however towards your personal twenties, the uncertainty, and the limitless seek for who you might be.
I celebrated this win with a visit that was within the making for nearly a 12 months. Sri Lanka was simple to succeed in, and by now I had developed a style for the finer issues in life: craft cocktails, quiet seashores, native meals, and friendships solid over late-night Korean meals in small cities. Skipping all of the touristy locations, I boarded a coastal specific prepare straight to the small seaside city of Hiriketiya. There, perched on the pristine shore, sat certainly one of Asia’s prime 50 bars. I had my birthday dinner at Smoke & Bitters, sipping cocktails and making pals with the homeowners and their pets.
Hiriketiya Beach, Sri Lanka | Photo Credit: Sangita Rajan
The considered turning 31 means just one factor: it’s time to begin plotting the following escape. Travelling on my birthday has change into a option to mark development and embrace solitude. I’ve realized to plan simply sufficient, to go away room for surprises, and to just accept that the perfect tales usually come from the errors.









