I searched for a foreign land, for years and years I roamed

So recently I went to Maldives for a vacation. The island nation was chosen as our vacation destination after much consideration, the key factors being- distance (less than 5 hours of travel, check), weather (more than 18°C, check), expense (will not result in us filing for insolvency and allowing us enough to be able to feed ourselves for the next month, check), clean beaches and water sports (hell yeah! check), not falling geographically in southeast Asia (check) and most importantly – number of Indian vacationers statistically (less than 5, check).

The last factor was important to me not because I have some misplaced pseudo inbred sense of superiority and disdain for vacationers from my own country (whatever that means), but because every previous time that I had gone outside India for a vacation, there have been sooooo many Indians all around, that I never truly felt that I was on an international vacation. Secondly on my last vacation which was a beach-y location, I had very very bad experiences with drunk and lecherous fellow Indian vacationers.

So after braving the very cold climates of Rajasthan and enduring the surprisingly chilly temps of Bombay we packed our bags and were looking forward to the balmy Maldives. When we boarded our flight to Colombo I was full of dread since all around us were typical Indian honeymooners (you know the girl with the chooda in hands and funny fitted jeans/ weird length shorts/ midi skirts) and loud Indian families. I prayed hard and thankfully very few of them boarded the connecting flight to Male. However the flight to Male had its own share of obnoxious passengers (count me out). There were these two huge families, presumably from Delhi, where the aunties were so well turned out, I wanted to throw up. They were wearing absolutely too much bling, talons were predictably varnished in blood red/fuchsia pink, cropped pants, silk stoles, lip liner (!! It was an overnight flight), eyeliner, eye-shadow in place and I even suspect that their hair were blow dried! I was feeling absolutely dowdy next to these shiny and not-a-hair-out-of-place-people. I mean after all I was just dressed for traveling- 3/4^th jeggings, over-sized shirt, spectacles, slightly oily hair, knotted in a bun and the only shiny thing about me was my super shiny T-zone. The uncles left me speechless, one of them was wearing a broad vertical striped blazer (blue and white), with silk lapels and a silk rose (huge) stuck onto the lapel, a hat and shiny white shoes, for chrissake! And these uncles and aunties went on and on about “that edition of Vogue”, “At my golf club”, “Taj Exotica” and blah blah and I had to endure them throughout the flight since they were sitting right behind me.

Thankfully they went off to some other island (housing Taj Exotica I presume!) once we landed at Male. The only other fellow Indians on our island was a very quiet honeymooning couple of the type described above. I was happy and frolicked around the beach wearing whatever I felt like wearing without anyone raising so much as an eyebrow and I tried my hands at all the water sports available, without anyone staring or smirking at my pathetically unsuccessful attempts.

But after 2 days I realized that I was strangely missing the bonhomie and laughter of my fellow Indians that I was so desperately running away from. The only other Indian couple had also left by then. It was strange because we were in the middle of firangi population who hardly ever spoke even English, mostly Europeans, who stuck to themselves, who didn’t laugh loudly, who didn’t people watch, who didn’t stare at you, who didn’t participate in the “treasure hunt” organized by the management of our resort (I was soooo excited about the TH but there were only two couples apart from us who participated), who didn’t dance on the DJ night. And finally on new year’s eve, when the dance floor was open, all these bloody-firangs just sat there in groups sipping there stupid drinks and laughing in that infuriatingly cultured manner! I missed my fellow Indians so sorely, I wished there were loads of Indians who would by now have been half drunk and would have been laughing LOUDLY and doing the jhatkas and matkas and demanding the DJ to play “munni” or “sheila”. If that was the scene then I wouldn’t have stuck to a mild form of head bopping feeling shy of being the only few people on the floor. Instead I would have been half drunk and would have been laughing LOUDLY and doing the jhatkas and matkas and demanding the DJ to play “munni” or “sheila”, in other words, I would have behaved exactly the way the people I was terrified of bumping into on this holiday, would have behaved.

Mental note: kick myself for the misplaced pseudo inbred sense of superiority and disdain for vacationers from my own country (whatever that means).