What if I said it out loud that my blog didn’t start off as a travel blog?
What if I further added that the post I penned after my first solo trip had very little to do about the experience of being out there on my own?
Yes, I have been and continue to be a late bloomer on all things life. Travel included. It’s serendipitous then that ‘nomadic thunker’ goes well (or at least that what I think) with a blog that’s now all about travel.
If you haven’t read the post I wrote after my first solo trip it’s about a salt and pepper haired couple who sat straight across from me in the train on my return from Trasi in Udupi. Why did I choose to write about them? I was hooked on to how they spoke to each other – facing each other, constant eye contact, waiting for the other to complete their thought out aloud, never a raised tenor in either’s voice.
Evidently, I was hooked. I still recall that moment so vividly.
I have crossed paths with similar stories through my journeys. It warms me up a little bit on the inside (and no, I haven’t held a Mills and Boons ever – let alone read them) because like with everything else, even the nature of our relationships are under the scanner more now than before!
That’s a rather long-ish premise for why I wanted to share this story —
“She is his daughter. Not mine. He is my second husband. I don’t know if you know but we were both married before this. I don’t have kids from my marriage. I lost my husband to a very sudden illness and he’d lost his wife after she suffered from a prolonged bout of diabetes.
We met each other through Shaadi.com. I’d asked myself whether I really wanted to do this or was I prepared to live the rest of my life by myself. I hadn’t been married too long – just around 14 years. He was married for over 20 years. He can’t live alone. He had this rather lengthy profile. Very wordy. But his was the only one I replied to.
Yes our respective families were concerned. His kids were taken aback. When I spoke to them later they mentioned that they weren’t done grieving for their dead mother when their father mentioned me to them. Honestly, I wasn’t done grieving for my dead husband either. I was financially sound. I still have my own home but this decision was more than just that.
I was looking for companionship. I needed someone I could be with. And I was willing to give this a try. Had things gone the other way, I’d be content knowing I’d given it a shot and may be this wasn’t meant to be.
But there hasn’t been a day when I’ve had to re-think that decision of mine. He is very caring and positive person. The word ‘No’ does not exist in his dictionary. He’s a lot like his mother in that regard. She lived her life independently until her last breath.
His kids have families of their own and we spend time together when they’re here. It’s a full house with the grandkids.
We’ve been together for over 6 years now. We work together and travel together. It’s worked out well.”
No, I didn’t know they’d married a second time. Neither would I have been able to tell. They knew each other well. One would recommend the restaurant, but the other would place the orders. One was better at routes; the other was good with recommending the must-sees and must-dos.
Travel is about chance encounters with stories like these (for me at least). I know there are many more stories out there. Have one you’d like to share?