One Friday evening, I rolled two suitcases into the Philly airport, bid adieu to my spouse and tuned out. I went through check in, security and the boarding process detached from everything. I didn’t browse my phone, read a book or even people watch. I just sat in a seat staring at a light fixture on the ceiling like a zombie.
In the months and weeks preceding the trip, I was hyper-focused on the world around me. I went through the motions at home and at work. I barely made it through each day. Politics was personal and it permeated every part of my life. Sitting at the terminal waiting to fly to India, I was leaving everything behind literally and metaphorically.
The flight itself was uneventful. I landed in Mumbai in the wee hours of the morning and was whisked away by Shabnam, the invisible hand behind the Panchgani Writers Retreat. I started the day with Maharastrian pohe, poori aloo and chai. I had a few hours before we would leave for Panchgani and I spent it hanging out with a friend I had made in astrology class two years ago. We had until then only ever chatted online and spoken about astrology. She hosted me and took me to the famed Swati Snacks. Vada pav, sabudana khichdi and panki chatni later, I hugged her and went back to my hotel to get ready for the long drive to Panchgani.
The drive was about five hours long and I got a fleeting view of how huge Mumbai was and also Pune as it flashed past my car windows. In the car with me were a screen writer and an oncologist. Our drive was filled with stories from our lives and we reached just after bedtime.
I woke to birdsong and incredible mountain sunrises each morning. Our days were filled with craft lessons on poetry, creative writing, flash fiction and screenwriting. The afternoons were jaunts into the neighboring Mahabaleshwar, Wai and, markets for shopping. I bought trinkets for my kids and perfumes for myself. A lovely friend bought me channa and chikki to take home.
Looking back on a week that now feels like a blur, it truly was a respite and a retreat from everything happening in my life. For one whole week, I woke up rested, had meals served to me, chai on demand and the pleasure of knowing people from different walks of life.
I brushed shoulders with incredible poets and script writers. We shared vulnerable stories. We celebrated birthdays and anniversaries. We walked under the stars and watched the moon and Venus each night. We swatted mosquitoes and traded travel notes. We shared family pictures and our hardest moments. For one whole week, I felt that shared thread of humanity which I missed in the years past.
I have been chronically online, consuming stories, data and outrage, not really knowing the people behind the words. My mind was over stimulated but I was starved of physical connection. As I hugged everyone good bye, I realized what had been missing in my life for years now.
I deactivated Twitter and paused the incessant consumption of dramas on my laptop. I have been sleeping for six plus hours each night since I returned. I feel different. I feel like writing again. My brain is buzzing with ideas.
I don’t know if I can sustain this energy but I do know I will be signing up for the next retreat whenever that happens.
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