Holidays can be so much fun

A long dreamt vacation. Here at last. A golden interlude. And a delicious feeling of laziness creeps over one. No more clock-watching. The day to be spent just as one likes it.

 Lingering in bed. Pottering about. Or perhaps going off to a hill station. A date with Nature. Landscapes steeped in beauty. Robbed in green or may be snowy white. Exhilarating. Intoxicating. One comes back with a bunch of fragrant memories.

Holidays can be so much fun if one knows how to extract the most out of it each day. If one works out a little schedule. Not very rigid, but at least outlined to enable one to get something done

.

For time is so treacherous. It can slip away so swiftly, leaving behind a faint trace of regret. Regret for many things which never came to be done.

I am not always lucky to go out of town. That is when I take up my hobbies. Stamp collecting is one. I remember seeing a very interesting feature film. It discussed at length Sant Tulsidas. The highlights of his life. The spiritual urge which moved him to pen the immortal classic Ramayana. Each stamp is fascinating tit-bit of history. It can be a very absorbing pastime tracing the why and where-fore of it. Learning about the people who select the designs, the revenue the stamps bring in, adding your own the foot notes of history to the stamps.

Here is another suggestion. Working out a planned project. Any project of one’s choice. For instance, one’s favourite toy shop. One could meet the proprietor and find out as to from where he gets the toys. Then follow the trail. Learn something more about the wholesale market, about production figures, about the investment angle. The number of toys exported, if at all, against those that we import, so on and so forth.

Or may be a science project. Experiments. Visits to museums, libraries. There is nothing more fascinating than delving deeper into a subject. Discovering its myriad facets.

If one is a book addict, then one may start a book club. This way one will have a larger selection to choose from. One can even edit a journal for fun. Record in it the happenings during the vacation. A list of favourite authors. Indian literature is replete with adventure tales. Very rich in its folk-lore. Why not do some research? Read as much as one wants to. A good idea.

Paint away the holidays. Splash the canvases. Step out to capture Nature. Translate in colours the calm of the quiet sea. Or the maddening riot of hues in April flowers. Paint to one’s heart’s content.

Visit a village nearby. Climb trees – that is what I often do. Roam the countryside. Swim in the rivers. Collect wild flowers. Back at home start a little vegetable garden. Approach a nursery for directions.

 There are a hundred and one things that one can do profitably during a vacation. For myself. I love exploring the city. Just taking a bus to anywhere as long as it drives me to something unknown. Some place, that looks mysterious. I walk and walk and wander amongst the labyrinths, till I end up in a cul-de-sac. For me, even after more than thirty years of familiarity with it, Bombay tantalizingly retains its mystery. I am always discovering some new facets. Its Chor-Bazzar with its exotic jewellery. The city abounds in fascinating haunts. It is a pleasure to come across a little wayside restaurant that serves delightful food.

I once spent a wonderful evening at a Dhobi Ghat. I sat with the washermen as they beat away the dirt on the hard stones. I went with them to their snacks. Sat watching them as they smoothed the clothes with heavy coal irons. And in the evening we all sang “bhajans”. Devotional songs, very emotional in content.

And I love outings. A day on the beach or at a secluded spot, far, far away from the madding city crowds.

Near a murmuring river. Spend a day, indentifying the trees. Following the birds, discovering their nests. And watching from some restful nook, the sun bidding good-bye to the day. The sky, a crimson glow. And then later, the night shyly coming in. the landscape softly outlined in the moonlight. At moments such as these the lips twitch to break into poetry. Fond lines come rushing back to memory as when Byron describing the Night sky sang- This is poetry of Heaven

.

The nightscape. The lights coming on, one by one. The moon hanging like a lantern in the sky. And looking at it, the mind suddenly wondering about the strange world that humanity is  about to stumble upon in its craters. The inky space and the unknown adventures.

At the end of pleasant, weary day one finally treads homewards. Satisfied, happy, just in being alive. And in the process of living, one gets that rare but rewarding glimpse of what one truly is.