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The Rich Trip

Chapter Seven

Disclaimer

Our journeys are stories of our own.
This is mine and I’ve allowed some of these points to stand, in spite of being corrected.
It’s not a guidebook or marketing piece for the Sunday paper.

It is semi-fiction: A fictional description of a true story.

Previously…
– I went with Candida to meet her friend to Sandham island
– Her friend Simone was sailing since two weeks with husband, 3 kids and her dog
– I was baffled at how a single mother was having fun with an ideal family
– Candida separated from Andrew without spoiling his ‘daddy image’
– Adam was great friends with Andrew as he was a doting father

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Sail Of Six
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Seven Jobs

© Monster.com

Back to my home-away-from-home

I am breathing curiosity in Adam’s room. Parents’ divorce and a relationship? Was it sort of an escape? When did he tell Evelyn? How did Candida tell him? What does he think about Candida’s current boyfriend? And Andrew’s current girlfriend? This whole thing is so bizarre. If there was an award for ‘emotional fitness’, he would be one of the receivers for sure. Wasn’t this more important than being able to lift 100 kgs? 

I saw Adam’s picture with Evelyn on the pearly white desk. It was framed and placed there. For a closer look, I held it under the handsome lamp next to it. The lamp remained dark.

How romantic! Pictures are an effortless time machine. 

Candida walked in when she saw the lamp wasn’t working. “Ah. Will have to go to the supermarket for a new bulb. I’ll change it later. Hey, I know it’s not a tourist attraction but do you wanna go? We can ride the train and be back in time to go to Nina’s.”

New bulb? I just call the electrician. Perks of cheap labour, haha!

“Camp will take me to all those touristy places. Let’s go to the supermarket. I really don’t mind.”

 Riding the train would be so cool!

***

“That’s the station, you see? Pretty close, no?” Candida smiled. We had walked for some 500 metres. 

Wh-What? How did it look s–so-artistic? How is it so clean? And not stinking? I go to that CST subway daily and…My God. Oh, and most importantly, EMPTY. Like h-how? How empty? No beggars? No shops? What’s going on? Didn’t people live here?

***

Nina (Candida’s cousin) lived in a place like Monica Geller’s, or any New York apartment for that matter. Squished yet surviving on a busy street. The apartment was on the first floor. Nina was slender and neanimorphic (looking younger than age.Yeah, I Googled). I would have never guessed she was mother to Karen and Ben. Her features were sharp and attractive.

Inside, an elongated dining table made of cucumber green marble welcomed us. At the centre of the table was a revolving glass disc. Colourful and aromatic food was kept on it in delicately designed floral cutlery making it a seated buffet.

“Hey Richa, do you like Avocado? Try its salad here, its dressing is delish, it’s from Italy,” Karen (Nina’s daughter) flicked the glass disc with Avocado salad towards me. I instantly liked the adorable self she was. Her red sweatshirt was casual yet classy.

I was an Avocado virgin, never tasted. I had applied its lotion once, I guess.

I eagerly scooped some onto my plate. It was buttery and did not have any strong flavour as such (bland like a potato). She was right about the dressing. The salad tasted divine solely because of it.

***

“Have you been to Chile?” Karen asked while sipping coffee after a delectable dinner.

We were swinging in the balcony overlooking the streets. Surprisingly, not flooded with cars. Clay (Nina’s nephew) joined us smilingly. Tall and pretty, I was certain he made heads turn.

“Oh, shut up, you idiot. Karen asks everybody,” Clay jokingly punched her.

“Er no, why?” I asked Karen before turning to Clay, “Hey, coffee?”

“So she got a job as an animal psychologist there,” Clay told me and continued mocking Karen, “If a dog barks, we give biscuits. What’s there to study!” He rolled his eyes.

“Right, which is at least helping the dogs” Karen interrupted with a clarification that there was more than just dogs. She then playfully scorned at Clay, “What do you do, eh? Just get chicks drunk?” Clay was a bartender in Italy. That’s where he got the Avocado salad’s dressing from. From their cute bickering, I learnt that Sia (Clay’s sister) was a golf ball diver. They collect golf balls from ponds, etc. She was apparently an excellent swimmer in school.

Karen – animal psychology – Chile
Clay – bartender – Italy
Sia – golf ball diver – Miami
Ben (Karen’s brother) – wildlife photographer – Spain
Peter (Nina’s husband) – scubadiving instructor – Egypt
Adam (Candida’s son) – writer – USA
Lily (Candida’s mother) – painter – Sweden

How unusual are these? These can be hobbies, yes. But jobs? Indians won’t even know how to spell them! I suddenly wondered (like you surely have at some point in your life) what will my life be if I was not human. A duck, maybe? I won’t have to worry about having a job. Food would be free. My life will be filled with sunlight and water.

Tempting, yes. Although, just a stupid fantasy. I am not a duck and I don’t even want to be. Would I be writing this or have met Candida, Nina, Karen and Clay at all? However unusual the job is, we have to come home. So why not make an unusual home? A home we do not want to leave?

***

Adiós, amigo!
Thanks for reading and catch ya next week.
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Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. In case if you are not happy with the content and/or the images here, please write to me at therichdiary@gmail.com

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Eighth Wonder
I know the 7. This is not a monument.

Categories
The Rich Trip

Chapter Six

Disclaimer

Our journeys are stories of our own. This is mine and I’ve allowed some of these points to stand, in spite of being corrected. It is not a guidebook, trip diary or marketing piece for the Sunday paper.

This is semi-fiction: A fictional description of a true story.

Previously…

– The difference in time or distance did not impact mothers, they were so similar.
– A red helicopter was an ambulance.
– One morning, the neighbour’s kid was seriously injured while rowing.
– Candida’s father felt guilty about teaching him that.
– I didn’t think he should have, as it was absolutely not his fault.

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Chapter Five| The Flying Fifth
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Sail Of Six

From The Stockholm Archipelago to Sandham

Salt, sea, sun. 

Helluva fun! 


I wish I could join Candida’s summer cheer. However, that joy wasn’t at all infectious. Hey, I love Mumbai, but in the summers, there is nothing to cheer about. With 40 degrees and sweat, discovering anything pleasant is an odd phenomenon. Anyhow, it is and will always be home.  Does it really matter? 

“Winters are so dark here. Literally, you know? Sun says hi by 9ish and bye around 3. The blue water becomes a stiff sheet of white ice without boats. I love the water. I’m sure you do too, you have so many beaches back home, right?” Candida then bore into me with a profound metaphor. “Think of a heart monitor, life is in waves. A stiff goddamn line means death,” grumbled Candida.

That morning, we were headed to Sandham to meet Candida’s friend Simone and her family. Sandham is on the island Sandön. It was about an hour’s row from where we were. It is an important natural port in the archipelago.

***

The cultural impact that Italian pizza has had all across the world is not at all surprising. There isn’t a city in the world without a pizza outlet of some sort. Älskar pizza was just a few steps away from the deck. It is a spectacular restaurant where they serve great pasta, meat and other Italian classics.

Simone was on a sail-vacation with her husband, three kids, and their dog – ‘Pig’. (Funny story: the youngest daughter wanted to adopt a pig, so they adopted a dog named ‘pig’ instead).The six had been sailing for two weeks and had two more to go.

“When I thought of sailing, I had this scene set in my head, you know? Some glamorous celebrities sunning themselves on deck, watching their friends frolicking in the crystal blue waters below, moored somewhere uber Instagrammable,” dreamed Simone. “But you know what I found? For yacht holidays, you don’t have to be famous or even have any experience in sailing,” she continued excitedly.

Apart from the calm of the ocean, there was privacy and the flexibility of being able to explore numerous destinations in one trip. Wow, I’m so sold. I loved the concept.

And they built a life they loved

Laughter masked the truth of them all. On one side, there is the Ekström family. An ideal one – parents, 3 kids, a dog. The six appeared happy together. On the other side, a single mother. I am not strong enough to have ever gone for such a lunch. I admired Candida for that. Maybe I’ll ask her about it later.

Maybe the waves wash off the fears

Or maybe they hide the tears 

Maybe one sail is all we need

To stop how we bleed

***

On our way back to Stockholm (my home-away-from-home), Candida showed me a picture of Simone holding Pig. That picture made her smile. Happy looked good on her.

I gingerly enquired, “Er Candida? Didn’t you think of Adam and his father when you met them?”

“Not really. I have mastered the art of admiring them, without questioning my own. Know this Richa, you only compare your stupid Instagram stories with their highlights,” she looked sideways at the water, “Adam’s father, Andrew, is someone any woman could easily fall for. You saw that, right? I fell too. He was every dream I’d ever had. I am glad that I got to meet the love of my life. Hardly anyone does. However, he was a flirt and I don’t blame him -” she exhaled a homourless laugh, “The most important thing was, he was a doting father to Adam. We waited until Adam could take care of himself. I then gently told Adam without ruining that ‘daddy image’ for him.”

Wow okay. But without Adam’s response, this tale sounded too good to be true.

“Of course Adam was hurt. But more than that, he was grateful that we made sure he lived his childhood in a bubble, free of any tragedies. Right now, he encourages me to respect my life and to choose whomever I love. And about Andrew, well, they are great friends. Oh and I told you, he adores Phil,” Candida concluded smilingly.

If my story was so unique, so different, why would I ever compare? It was not worthy of comparison. To hell with Simone. Huh.

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. In case if you are not happy with the content and/or the images here, please write to me at therichdiary@gmail.com

NEXT
Chapter Seven: Seven new jobs

If I was a duck, I wouldn’t have to do this job, would I?

Categories
The Rich Trip

Chapter Five

Disclaimer
Our journeys are stories of our own. This is mine and I’ve allowed some of these points to stand, in spite of being corrected. It is not a guidebook, trip diary or marketing piece for the Sunday paper.

This is semi-fiction: A fictional description of a true story.

Previously…
On the way to meet Candida’s parents – island at Stockholm Archipelago – Stopped at the gas dock – a floating petrol pump on the water – Candida bumps into her ex-husband and his current girlfriend – a model – In awe at Candida’s mental stability

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Chapter Four | The Wild Card Entry No. 4
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The Flying Fifth

Island-house – The Stockholm Archipelago

Wow. The island house is like the little red house in the scenery drawings from primary school. Instead of those mountains above and the tree next to it in the drawings, it was just blue everywhere around. Just imagine blue!

Inside, the living-room was a bright, rosy-coloured space neatly tucked in the island-house by French windows. It was like one of those luxurious apartment pictures my mom showed me.

“How was the boat-ride? Oh, you hungry sweetie?” Grandma Lily asked. She had a faint strawberry scent.

“Er, no. Candida made cheese sandwiches for the boat. Oh, and she drove wonderfully” I replied.

However different the continents were, it had no impact on mothers. They were the same. I sighed.

***

2 hours later

I was looking at the purple tiffin with sandwiches left from the morning, my face made a distasteful expression.

I am so tired of everything being tasteless (except desserts). So bland. Just plain and yuck. Thanks, mom for packing theplas and pickle. I am surviving on those. God bless you. I so wanted to have something spicy.  

“Hey,” Grandma Lily called from outside. “Let’s take a dip? It will be refreshing. Come!”

When I did not give an exciting positive response, she came in. I was simply sitting on the bed with only the sun enjoying the contents of the purple tiffin on the side-table.

Aren’t guests simply served with options of food items?

“Before we go, should I get you some meatballs?”

I don’t know how she got that. Haha. But ew meat.

“Oh no, I’m a vegetarian and I would like this!” I said. I smirked at my smartness, this was a mind-blowing idea. I was holding a packet of Maggi noodles.

Take a bow, Nestle, take a bow.

***

The next morning, our grim faces were focused on the TV screen for the weather report.

Oh yeah, surprisingly, these guys take it seriously. Unlike India, it is accurate almost every time.

‘Chuff-chuff-chuff’, the whirring of the helicopter overtook the news anchor’s weather forecast of being a sunny day. Four pairs of eyes followed that sound, it took us outside. Once again, I was un the blue. This time, blue was for the mood. Standing on the deck overlooking water, our gaze scanned the cloudless sky. There, I couldn’t belive, I spotted red. That red was the reason the mood was blue. Red with bold ‘AMBULANCE’ in white shouting from its exterior paint. It went to the neighbouring island. The ambulance was a freakin’ red helicopter. Whoa!

“May God make lil’ Sonny feel better,” said the grandpa. He shook his head slowly and looked at the sky, praying. “He is Harry and Megan’s son, our island-neighbours. Cute kid. Today, while rowing, Buzo jumped in the boat, the dog in black fur you see there,” he pointed. “Sonny lost control and tripped. Do you know what’s worse? I taught him how to row.” He murmured and walked away, still shaking his head. Probably feeling guilty.

I don’t know why he felt guilty. If the kid is destined to be fine, he will be. How is any of this his fault?

© Pinterest.com

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. In case if you are not happy with the content and/or the images here, please write to me at therichdiary@gmail.com

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Chapter Six: Sail Of Six

Might fancy a vacation like this?

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The Rich Trip

Chapter Four

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Chapter Three | The Third Wheel
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Disclaimer
Our journeys are stories of our own. This is mine and I’ve allowed some of these points to stand, in spite of being corrected. It is not a guidebook, trip diary or marketing piece for the Sunday paper.

This is semi-fiction: A fictional description of a true story.

The Wild Card Entry No. 4

Image credit: getmyboat.com

Stockholm Archipelago, here I come!

Oh My God. This is So blue. Neither the Monday kinda blue, nor dress-shade kinda blue. It’s a different blue. A blue I have never seen before. Nature’s blue. 

Saltsjöbaden, Municipality in Sweden.

“Weather is sunning and stunning, isn’t it?” Candida exclaimed. 

The dapper wind and the dazzling water made a splendid pair. It was accompanied by the bracing sky and a calming horizon. I was embarrassed about taking pride in Mumbai being a coastal city. This was beyond comparison. The cleanliness, the purity, the picturesque scenes… I wished this was The Truman Show. It would have been more fascinating and prettier than it already is. I had just begun daydreaming about that idea when Candida yelled. It was like my morning alarm going off. I sighed.

“Hey, we need gas.”

***

Oh my!  Forget our shitty petrol pumps with beggars sprinkled across, this gas dock was an entire petrol freakin’ pump floating on water. Oh, who is that dude Candida is talking to? The man looks as old as her, in his fifties. Athletic, yeah. Must be working out. The super-cute model-like slender chick next to him seems at least 25 years younger. Wait-what? Did he just-? They are definitely not father-daughter or brother-sister. 

“Yeah… whatever,” Candida rolled her eyes as she walked back.

Huh? What did that mean? They appeared so friendly. Maybe she likes him. Well, I won’t be surprised there. Hello, muscles! Anyway, I dare not ask.

“That was my ex-husband and his current girlfriend,” she announced in a fact-of-the-matter manner.

WTF! Good, I did not ask. I can’t even begin to explain how strange that was.

“Wh-what? And you okay with this?” I looked bewildered.

I mean, how on earth can we imagine anybody of that age (or any age actually) see something like that without getting disturbed? Except in movies, which are not real. HOW!?

“It’s all right. Our hearts break and we do take some time. We don’t quit though, do we? We don’t have that option, you see? Eventually, we move on. We have to,” she shrugged and looked away. 

There were no tears, not any sign of weakness. Wow, I feel proud.

“So have you-?” I’m a copywriter and yet,  I was at a loss for words.

Moved on? After having a child? I know many people do but that was an alien universe to me.

“Oh yeah, I am dating Phil. Hot doctor, also divorced. Adam adores him,” she smiled.

She does not feel like 50 odd years old. I don’t know any of my friends who can talk to any grown-ups like that. Can you? What’s inside simply remains there. This is just so… liberating.

I gently squeezed her arm and smiled back. 

***

We parked our boat at their island’s dock.

Grandpa towered us, easily a foot taller than I was. Instantly, I knew where Candida got the height from. Musclular built and tanned skin had travel stories written all over them. There were hard lines on his face and the friendliness of his blue tshirt failed to hide the tough muscles beneath it. Suddenly, I had immense respect for the ‘retired army man’.

“No no,” Grandpa shook his head, crestfallen. “Did you forget tying the boat to the dock, Candy?” He marched towards Candida and secured all the dock lines by simple cleat knots.

Meanwhile, grandma walked towards us in a yellow floral sundress. It highlighted her curves. “Hi Richa! I’m Lily. So glad to have met you. I’m sure Candy did not tell you about her camp like this one to California.”

Candida had certainly not told me. I’ll ask her about it later. Right now, the waves overlapped Lily’s singing voice. I could see smile lines forming under her eyes. 

“No wonder she has been such an awesome host-mother. ,” I replied as Lily walked us in the house. Lily halted midway, following the gaze of my eyes. I spotted the most spectacular swing in the middle of greens, just by the sea.

“Hop on. It will feel rewarding to see it being used,” murmured Lily.

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. In case if you are not happy with the content and/or the images here, please write to me at therichdiary@gmail.com

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Chapter Five: The Flying Fifth

Is that- is that really- flying?

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The Rich Trip

Chapter Three

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Disclaimer
Our journeys are stories of our own. This is mine and I’ve allowed some of these points to stand, in spite of being corrected. It is not a guidebook, trip diary or marketing piece for the Sunday paper.

This is semi-fiction: A fictional description of a true story.

Previously…

– At Candida’s place, in Adam’s room, my home-away-from-home
– Blue and yellow (Swedish flag colours) were shining everywhere inside
– Like a true hostess, she represented Sweden well

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Chapter Zero
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The Third Wheel

Last Seen: At my home-away-from-home

I-c-can’t-br-breathe… Am I…dr-drowning? H-How am I drowning?
Wasn’t I flying in an aeroplane? Didn’t I land? I can hear my breath.
So I’m Not drowning. And Not dreaming. I did sleep though.
So much silence, man. Some people find it heavenly but me? I am so used to it that I have strangely gotten fond of the traffic noise.
Call it crazy but I live on the grand floor on the main road. And In Mumbai.
Anyway, what’s the time? The sun is still up. Evening, maybe?

“In summers, sunsets are around 2 in the night, you see? Hey, you hungry?” Candida pierced that silence answering my unasked question. She must have caught me staring at the clock whose hour-hand was between eight and nine. 

“Not really,” I answered.

I was too sleepy to eat.

“Knew that! I’ll fetch you hot chocolate,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen.

Perfect. I did not come here to sleep anyway.

She reappeared a minute later, offering me a maroon mug, “Here you go. Hey, do you feel sea-sick?” She had such a motherly innocence about her, no one could have said yes, even if they did feel sea-sick. Fortunately, I didn’t. I smilingly shook my head, reassuring her.

I was almost gonna ask ‘why’ but who likes spoilers, right?

Whenever the sun sets,
it always rises.
Isn’t that one of our assets?

The next morning, I was ready in my red shorts to hike downhill to lie on the water-deck. Just behind the apartment. Had also packed, Candida told me what to bring.

Oooo! I can get some sexy pictures here! The sunlight is superb. I feel so pretty!

“Richa! Wait. There she is, that white one. Do you see?”

We had reached the parking spot for boats. Yeah, boats. It mirrored the airport car-parking area. So neat. Maybe Candida is talking about the white boat, I guessed.

Candida didn’t seem to care about the shallow breaths as she jogged towards the boat. “Look at her. Such beauty. My parents got her (the boat) for Adam, you see? He is staying at Evelyn’s place this week, his girlfriend. So pretty, right?” Candida showed her phone’s wallpaper. Adam hugged Evelyn on some hill. Yes, they undoubtedly appeared happy.

Adam and Eve, how perfect! Er… and what do I say about the boat? It is so… NOT a ‘beauty’.

She (the boat) looked like some regular pedal boat from ‘Chota Kashmir’. Instead of the two pedal-seats, there was a motor and a steering wheel.

Candida continued to chirp in her child-like-new-toy excitement, “We can ride her and visit my parents, yeah? They are usually on the island in the Archipelago during summer, you see? We can take a dip, relax a little in the house there. Don’t worry, the water is pretty warm this time of the year.”

Whoa! Boat!? Okay then. Here are some points to ponder. I had heard of my friends boasting about new cars, maybe visiting a fancy beach in an exotic location abroad. Never about how a mom having such a…wallpaper or a new boat or having a second-home on an island.

I joined Candida’s childish anxiousness and jumped into the other two seats. While Candida rode, I read on my mobile what an Archipelago was. 

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. In case if you are not happy with the content and/or the images here, please write to me at therichdiary@gmail.com

Adiós, amigo!
Thanks for reading and catch ya next week.
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Chapter four: The Wild Card Entry No. 4

Who that? How’s livin’ on the island, folks?



Categories
The Rich Trip

Chapter Two

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Disclaimer
Our journeys are stories of our own. This is mine and I’ve allowed some of these points to stand, in spite of being corrected. It is not a guidebook, trip diary or marketing piece for the Sunday paper.

This is semi-fiction: A fictional description of a true story.

Previously…
– Travelled abroad for the first time
– Landed at Stockholm Arlanda Airport
– Met Candida Nordin (from the first host family)

Click below to read more

Chapter One

Chapter Two

My Second Home

Last Seen: Stockholm Arlanda Airport

Wow. Am I in a movie? I’d never seen a blondie from this close. Candida is so pretty! That’s not all, the offbeat left-hand driving and the sleek flyovers are giving me feels like Harry Potter on the 9 and 3/4th platform at King’s Cross station for the first time. I gape at the streets, failing to hide my awe. Oh my, this is surreal!

Candida greeted me with a proud wave of the flag of Sweden. Her wide ear-to-ear grin matched mine.

My dreams were mega…
But this, I never imagined…
Here’s how I met the Swergis flagga.

Walk to the right, that’s where I will sit. NOT LEFT. Right door. Right side, right side, right side. Ooh, the silver Volvo looks shiny new!

I kept ogling, evidently. That’s when Candida broke my reverie.

“First time abroad? I’m an air hostess, you see? I come across many such passengers. So don’t worry. You are in good hands.”

“Don’t you get tired of those flights sometimes? I already am.”

“Hey, come on. Don’t tell me I look that old. It’s my dream to visit all the wonders of the world, you see? Brazil, Peru and Mexico are left. “

“Oo yay! So you’ve been to India? How was it?”

“Taj Mahal is simply…

en skönhet. Beautiful.”

“Din jävla idiot,” Candida abruptly cussed, “Argh! This place has such moronic drivers.”

Harry Potter on King’s Cross, my foot! This is home!

The society was like a colony. Short buildings (2 floors each – around 10 feet of the gap in between) stood surrounding a gorgeous meadow. Hers was on the ground floor, I could see a manicured front yard next to neat grey steps, leading to a turquoise coloured main door.

The cosy ceiling-to-floor white apartment was decked with vibrant yellow and blue coloured balloons (flag colours). It looked as if it was set for filming a sexy click flick.

“Look, that’s my darling son, Adam,” her smile lit up her face when his picture filled her phone’s screen and she gave me a gentle squeeze. “He is away and you have his room. Lucas told you, I guess?” She continued.

On a bright study table by the window, stood a handsome flower vase holding blue & yellow cascading roses & calla lilies (Again, flag colours).

For me, she was representing Sweden, and I was smiling like a satisfied customer. I had a perfect customer-review for her. It was in the form of a miniature Taj Mahal.

Furthermore, she gave me a stamp-sized Swedish flag. It had a gold Nordic cross (denoting Scandinavia) on a field of blue, like the blue of our screens.

Tirelessly, we roam…
Eventually, we come back…
To a home-away-from-home.

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. In case if you are not happy with the content and/or the images here, please write to me at therichdiary@gmail.com

Adiós, amigo!
Thanks for reading and catch ya next week.
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Chapter Three: The Third Wheel

Get ready for Candida’s EPIC surprise!

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Story

Chapter One

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Disclaimer
Our journeys are stories of our own. This is mine and I’ve allowed some of these points to stand, in spite of being corrected. It is not a guidebook, trip diary or marketing piece for the Sunday paper.
This is semi-fiction: A fictional description of a true story.

Previously…

An introduction
Click below to read more

Chapter Zero

Chapter One

The First Time

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Stockholm Arlanda Airport. Local time is nine hundred hours and the temperature is 17°C… seat belt… personal belongings… overhead bins… deplaning assistance… thank you…  looking forward to seeing you on-board again in the near future. Have a pleasant stay!”

Wheels of luggage trolleys scratched the floor. Each one possessing its own story. I hugged myself, holding the thick and cosy lemon-coloured jacket close to my chest. The warmth was welcoming in the air’s chill. The energy it held felt vibrant. The sight of scarce people without any interruption and leisurely going on about their business, looked unreal. A handful of cars were parked orderly. The ground was so spotless, an ant would go hungry looking for a grain of sugar.

Hmm well… I wonder how Candida looks. Didn’t I have her picture? Let me see.

I opened the email from Lion’s club.

Dear Richa,

I hope this finds you well. I have informed Mrs Rajput (your college professor) regarding your attendance. Here are the details of your host families and an overview of the camp.

Family I

Initially, you were assigned to Mr and Mrs Hedlun. However, they had to attend a medical emergency. Ms Candida Nordin has amazingly agreed to host you (at very short notice). She is an air hostess and usually keeps busy. Due to a minor leg injury (almost recovered), she is on leave that week. Do express your gratitude as well. Candida resides in Stockholm with her son, Adam. As he is elsewhere that week, she has generously offered you to stay in his room. It’s a neat apartment without any pets. Candida will pick you up from the airport.

Lions Camp Viking

It will be held between 24 July to 7 August 2011 at Fagerudd Conference centre, Enköping. Like yourself, there will be 15 others representing the nations they are from. Our camp provides a safe, fun and active environment in which you can learn about different cultures and discover new friendships.

Family II

You have been assigned a host family for the one week after camp, 7-14 August, to the Martinsson family. They live in a big house in the country not too far from Enköping, where the camp will be. They have a swimming pool and a stable with horses on their premises. Their two daughters are married and not residing with them. Hence, you will have your own room at the residence. The son lives in another bedroom. They will drop you at the airport.

I have attached some pictures here FYR. Do let us know about your travel plans. The mail addresses are in the ‘CC’ field. Please contact me, should you have any more questions. We look forward to receiving you.

Yours sincerely,
Lucas Black
Youth Exchange Chairman

Candida (from my first host family – my host mother) was slightly different from the photo sent by Lucas. She was almost as tall as my father (5’11”) and as elegant as my mother. Her two gracious grey eyes gave her the appearance of always being respectful. She had aptly donned a salmon coloured shirt, beige pants and white shoes. They matched her blonde hair and milky skin. She walked like she owned the place, without noticing any strays. 

Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals. In case if you are not happy with the content and/or the images here, please write to me at therichdiary@gmail.com

NEXT

Chapter Two: My Second Home

Discover the new home-away-from-home in Adam’s den.

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Story

Imagination: An Antidote To Reality

Five friends were at my place last night.

1

One of them told us that his building is going for redevelopment. It was a piece of great news. I had heard good news after a long time. Currently, he lives in a 1BHK, with wife, mother and sister. He booked a 2BHK then. which was perfect. They needed privacy, and rightly so. When asked about his sister’s marriage, his immediate reaction was, “What? No way. Not right now. Who will pay the EMIs for the house?” Ouch! Haha, I realised how people are kinda stuck. He had to go to work on a Sunday as well. It was heart-breaking.

2 and 3

Another friend of mine is married to a guy she loved. They are both high school sweethearts. Instead of talking about love and romance, they were discussing family problems. Well, I have my own and I did not want to discuss it.

4

Another friend is moving to a new house. He was talking about furniture and mattress.

5

Another one did not talk much.

6

I was talking about a movie I was watching – The Intern (I love it, do check it out  – it’s on Prime).

That got me thinking about how to get out of it? And I am somebody who has heard millions of motivational things. To be honest, they seem to be just words. And you know the hard truth? It does not work that way. How much I enjoyed discussing things that were not real! Maybe movies and books work because of that. They give us the much-needed break. I personally did not like Slumdog Millionaire. Many Indians did not. Too close to reality. Too close. I’d rather watch three good-looking guys in Spain. So, let’s create an extraordinary reality, one that will help us return. We have that choice. Let’s make it.

If a poverty-stricken single mother imagined a little boy who discovers of his being a famous wizard, so can we.

Imagine, I mean.

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Story

Gracias

On the 13th  of June, it was raining. Didn’t that date ring a bell? School reopening, everything new and oh, the rainfall. Perfect… the memories…

I sighed heavily as I wrote this. I was absolutely dazzled by how one moment (in the example: rain) creates so many memories (in the example: school reopening). Moments and memories. Yeah, such a unique way to time-travel. I also wrote a poem about it titled ‘Unlock Memories’. It was my last update on this blog. In May. Four months passed. I had stopped blogging. Then, my phone beeped with a WhatsApp notification. It read:

Your writing style is fabulous. I have read a lot of your blog posts

That was from Prashant. Prashantji was in my Creative Writing workshop of Jan ’20. I got a few more from friends and family but this was from a writer himself, which made it special. It motivated me to revisit my blog and to write again. There, I stumbled upon this. It was an article I wrote about simply Doing stuff and not just keep Trying. So, I did what I had advised someone recently,

‘Go For It’.

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Story

500 Metres

Discover how she crossed the dreadful 500 metres to reach safety.

The sun had bid farewell, leaving behind the darkness, combined with a vivid memory.   The way birds flew to their nests made me jealous. Mine was just 500 metres away and I idly wondered how the world would be if we could practice Disapparition! At that moment, I heard the highly pesky noise of a Royal Enfield Bullet.

I continued to wobble to my sweet shelter, you read it right, wobble. The unsteady gait was due to a horrible fracture in my right fibula or as we know it, the calf bone. So, I could not run or walk effortlessly for a few years. I was grateful that it was not worse but the relief was short-lived. That irksome Bullet noise was heard once again. Something was amiss. It didn’t feel right. For the first time, I wished there was a paan tapri there, it would have been reassuring to see more people. Haven’t you just assumed they were there in every gully?

As the noise grew louder, the pace of my heartbeats elevated. They contradicted the swiftness of my legs! “Don’t look there!” I warned myself repeatedly. Not to trust strangers, theft, rape, aren’t those the scenarios we are brainwashed with? Terrified, I kept my valuables inside my handbag. Staring straight ahead, I did the only thing I could, I helplessly kept walking.

I was only a hundred metres away from safety when the unthinkable happened. The Bullet was blocking my way. We stood on that sloppy walkway. The Bullet-guy, like some precarious villain, strutted towards me. His leather jacket and biceps evidently craved being in the twenties. Although, his salt and pepper hair gave away his age. His grubby beard reeked of cigarettes. That kept me rooted to my spot. I am sure I looked like some ancient statue!

His simple question broke the reverie of my shock, “Do you need help?”