A Tale of Soup, Snow, and Gaslighting (ft. Pizza)

I’m currently 13 years old. 

That’s 12 birthdays I spent everywhere except home.

 ̶T̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶m̶o̶n̶o̶l̶o̶g̶u̶i̶n̶g̶,̶ ̶w̶e̶l̶l̶,̶ ̶u̶h̶h̶…̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶’̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶t̶e̶r̶m̶ ̶i̶n̶v̶e̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶y̶e̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶…a̶h̶,̶ ̶r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶.̶ 

This is me, writing about my most memorable birthday experience—my seventh. 

It was the first time I ever saw snow. 

We packed our bags (obviously, I should think) and boarded a train from Bangalore to Delhi. Two days only, my parents said. Obviously (I use this word a lot a lot; repetition intended) we had to check out all the monuments in Old Delhi. 

We went to see the Red Fort, towering above our heads. We went everywhere by bus, and I’m sure I still have the brochure they gave us. (It’s probably here somewhere, under the mounds of files, est. 2007.) The Qutb Minar, the Jantar Mantar, the National Museum. I don’t have crystal-clear memories of this part of our trip, but I do remember one thing—we couldn’t see the Lotus Temple. Well, we did see it, but we didn’t go into the premises. One day…

You’ll notice that I’m not very descriptive. That’s because I don’t have clear memories of this leg of our trip. The clearest is probably when we got out of the railway station in the morning, and it was, well, not freezing, but still cold. Every breath I let out condensed into a cloud. Oh, and the traffic. You’d think 6 in the morning would be relatively calm, but we were weaving our way through auto rickshaws and people wearing thin clothes. I don’t know why they didn’t feel cold, but I guess it’s because they’re used to it. 

Anyway, two days flew by like a breeze. Before you could say “I’m not going outside until the temperature is my age (not mine obviously),” we were on a train to an even colder place—Katra, J&K. Perhaps I should mention this was in December, and no cookies for guessing the season right. No cookies for guessing the season wrong either, by the way.

I’ll tell you the best part of the railway journey—the soup. Tomato with bread. I was disappointed when my sister also liked it—that meant I couldn’t have hers. Hey, I was six! 

Anyway, the morning saw us in a hotel at Katra, and I’m not entirely sure what happened, but suddenly we had a car and a driver who came with us everywhere. We shot several vlogs that my dad said he was gonna post on YouTube. I haven’t seen those clips in years, and I’m glad he didn’t post them, because I cringe whenever I see old me. Old me was extremely loud. Current me is anti-social. Two different people. 

At Katra, we visited the Vaishno Devi Shrine at the foot of Trikuta mountains. I don’t remember much about the temple itself, but the journey took us a whole day. We trekked/hiked up and/or down (I don’t remember even this) for an extremely long time, and after visiting the shrine, trekked/hiked a bit more to go on the helicopter. The clearest memory I have of this portion is when the pilot suddenly did something that made the snow-capped mountains appear very close to us, and we landed. There were a lot of people waiting to go on the ride, and the queue was very very long. 

The next thing that happened was my favourite part.

We were all extremely tired, and it just so happened that there were a couple of men offering horse rides back most of the way. As I jammed my walking stick into the ground and pulled it up again in severe boredom and impatience, my dad paid for the rides. Six-year old me and my mom went on one horse, while my dad and three-year old sister commandeered another. The ride was slow, but guess what happens when you put a six-year old on a horse. They zip their traps and try not to hurt it. At least, that’s what I did. Memories of two-year old me on a camel resurfaced (we undertook a trip from Bangalore to Rajasthan by car for my third birthday, but that’s another story), and I tried to remember very fervently the Taj Mahal for reasons lost in time. When the sun bid adieu to the mountains, and the golden lamps lining the way lit up, we reached the farthest point the horses would go, and the men (walking in front of the horses, poor them) told us we had to walk the rest of the distance. It was all downhill, and there were shops lining the streets, so no one minded very much. On the way, I saw a shop that my dad insisted was named after me (Ridhi something stores) and I took a photo with it. For some reason, I still remember what I was thinking whilst taking the photo (‘I’m gonna tell my friends I own a shop with my name on it!’). 

Back at the hotel, we slept soundly, but not before I made a fuss about it being too hot under the heavy blanket with the heater on. The next day, we traversed the mountains to the city Jammu. Rest day, because apparently six-year old me was tired (oh, and everyone else was also tired, in case you were wondering). At night, we (ok, I) marvelled at how high the Pole Star was compared to in Karnataka (we conducted, and still conduct, astronomy camps, but that’s another tale altogether) and other people who were also staying at the hotel came out to sit ‘round the bonfire. It was fun, but even better was recognising all the familiar constellations in unfamiliar locations (what do you mean, most people don’t do that? That’s the easiest thing in the world!). 

The next day, we visited the cold (according to common sense, not memory) snowy (according to memory) mountaintop. This was the most exciting, but also the most short-lived portion of the  trip. On the way, we had to wear heavy coats other than the ones we were already wearing, and boots that we rented from shops on the way, because (according to my parents this time) it was very very cold. A guy carrying a sled also came with us, because we have to go sledding too. At the snowy cap, the sun shone bright but the snow did not melt. Unsurprising now, but at the time I was in awe at the non-melting capacities of the snow. 

Cue the Series of Unfortunate Events (watch on Prime Video, by renting it when you’ve already paid for the membership). 

I suddenly felt that my feet were freezing, and my dad discovered ice in my shoe. Now, my foot was numb and I, like a sensible mature girl, started crying. 

At that instance, snow felt overrated. My boots betrayed me. The snow betrayed me. Life betrayed me. 

I learnt a lesson, snow is fun, as long as it stays out of your shoes.

I think I said I wanted to go home or something, so my dad bundled me up on the sled, and sent me off the mountainside. A few seconds later, he followed, deposited me in the car with the heater on, and promised to come back with my mom and sister. After what felt like an eternity (actually five minutes) he came back to deposit my sister, and my mom came. She carried with her an anecdote. My sister had apparently been battling the snow and trying to walk, when she fell face down into said snow. She got up, looked at my mom’s laughing face, and cried, but stopped almost immediately. 

Cue the end of the Series of Unfortunate Events.

We  ̶d̶i̶n̶e̶d̶  dinnered at this one restaurant where the floor was moving, and we took a while to figure that out, because we were focused on the food. I took reference from an almost seven year old video, and sheesh (by BABYMONSTER), I can’t watch it. 

That was the last day we spent in Jammu & Kashmir.

We travelled by car, a five hour journey, to Amritsar. On the 30th of December, we visited the Partition Museum. I really want to revisit Amritsar, because I don’t remember much from the trip, and I feel like I should be knowing what happened years ago in those places.

At night on the same day, we went to the Golden Temple, and I don’t know why I didn’t notice, but my mom had her head covered. I only found out recently when I looked at the photos. (mind you, I know why we have to cover our heads now.)

On the 31st we visited the Jallianwala Bagh Memorial, and watched some of the Closing Gate Ceremony. There’s a video of me aggressively jumping up and down while forcing my sister to do the same and screaming Punjab! Punjab! very loudly. Once again, six-year old me and teenage me are not the same people.

New Year’s Day, and more importantly, my birthday, saw us leaving the inn we had stayed at and moving to the Taj hotel because, in my father’s words, we have stayed at a Taj for most of my birthdays. My parents gaslit (gaslighted?) me into thinking we had to stay at a railway station, and being newly seven and young, I didn’t realise it was a hotel until we actually reached the room. I cut a cake, to no great ceremony, and the photo of me sitting behind the cake may cause some people to think I was an extremely elegant young lady. That is most definitely  ̶f̶a̶l̶s̶e̶  true. Another photo at dinner shows me aggressively inhaling a slice of pizza, and my sister next to me trying to inhale a slice of pizza, but confronted with challenges, mainly, the size of her mouth.

The second day, I cut another cake, and my sister claimed all the chocolate for herself. We left the hotel in the afternoon to go to the airport, and that was the end of our North India trip. A few days later we went to Kerala to lay the foundation stone of our house there, and I missed a lot of school—to my utter joy.

There you have it folks. My seventh birthday trip, one of many, but arguably the most memorable. A tale of soup, gaslighting and betrayal, but a journey I will cherish. I’d even go as far as to say it challenges Avery’s eighteenth birthday (where are my Inheritance Games fans at?).

Thank you for coming to my TED  ̶t̶a̶l̶k̶ write.

Written by Ridhi Anish