It felt like ages since I experienced the joys of slow travel, with no specific itinerary, time frame or agenda in mind.
I have to confess, I hit a rather low point this year in January. Being blessed with a beautiful baby girl, holding her in my arms, I would stare at her with teary eyes feeling blessed, grateful, happy, excited, nervous, lost all at once.
I have read and I like to believe it that babies right from the womb and from day 0, they can hear, understand and process what you talk to them, their subconscious intelligence is beyond our understanding.
So one fine chilly January night, with my dearest Myra, I travelled.
On warm, lazy afternoons, while walking along French colony of Pondicherry, Fontainhas of Goa, the graffiti on the walls—sometimes scratched and blurred—the pretty narrow lanes with colored houses, cafe culture and everything about the place still gives me goosebumps.
Words from Agha Shahid Ali’s poetry at the light and sound evening show at a fort in Udaipur, still echo in my head.
Men in flowing dhotis, emerge from the wintry morning mist, with the warmest smiles heading out to work on their houseboats and shikaras at Allepey.
At this humble little island at Andamans—Long Island—a carefree innocent childhood is still alive on the tapered streets, every day is a celebration amongst a small united community, cutesy shops where simple tea cakes with simple names (unlike mille-feuille) are piled up, just like our ’90s holds me in a trance.
The many stories, natural wonders, cultural traditions, the warmth of the locals of Ladakh are again revealing themselves to me.
The vastness and mesmerizing beauty of tea estates at Coorg still conjures in front of my eyes every time I sit in silence and in company of my masala chai.
I will never forget the night at Manapouri, New Zealand when we were alone under a sky full of stars. Magical! I was not done that night, this was not even 0.00001% of my experiences, but as I looked down and my eyes met hers, we smiled.
Our recent trip to Himachal felt like a warm hug and it was all the more special as my tiny human joined us. And in her welcome, carpets of yellow mustard fields lined the way. That night, just these few moments of not thinking work made me calm.
Postpartum depression is for real and should be taken seriously, do what it takes to make you feel better. A hot cup of tea, foot massage, talking to a friend, a simple leisure walk, a bowl of spicy noodles or simply not letting yourself drowned in guilt from zillion words of wisdom pouring from every relative.
And, trust me, do what makes you comfortable and enjoy your little one growing up every day. Help yourself! My little girl is seven months old today and every day is pure joy with her. My best friend and my travel partner is getting all ready to experience everything beautiful life has to offer!
How would you support someone who is suffering from post-partum depression?