The Unplanned Laphing 

It was not our summer vacation, but a trip that had been in chats for a long time. It’s one thing going with your family and a better thing to go without them (exempting the fact that you must act like an adult). But this thought was soon ruined when the group of five girls, were faced with the struggles of not being a princess.

Now a few facts about female travel- It’s a ruckus. From taking permission from your parents to actually traveling alone in India, you feel terrorized, alone, and anxious all the time. Especially when your parents have listened to a billion cases of rape, harassment, and snatching. But my parents have always motivated me to go out, provided there must be a man “to protect me”. The case is always different when it comes to my brother, he just needs to inform my parents that he is leaving and the rest is taken care of. I have always wondered- Do we as a society fail to empower women, or are women actually under threat 24*7?

It took a huge range of disputes to travel from Goa back to the hills near Delhi, but after careful consideration- Mussorie was decided. We changed our mode of transportation from bus to train, adhering to the concerns of our parents. We booked tickets from different parts of India but the aim was one- We needed an escape. After a night stay at our friend’s house and not sleeping the whole night, we took our compartment-sized bags and started the journey towards the station. Now like any other, group, we had two main goals- To find an escape and to party.

We seemed to have found solace as we stepped into the train station and the next thing on the agenda was smoking. Like any other day of smoking in Delhi, we were ready to be stared at but not ready for the fine we would have to give if caught smoking at the station.

The railway station- a place no less than the representation of the whole essence of India. It has people who break laws, make laws, and amend them according to their own wishes. On the right, I saw a snack shop that was calling me with an old and overprized sandwich, and on my left I could feel the rotten smell of railway toilets making its way to the sandwiches. I moved my eyes and saw a person having gutka, one rolling a joint, but no one was smoking. Being a woman, and that to a woman in India, I took the heads up and went straight to our seats.

We struggled, laughed, relaxed, and in the end reached our Zostel (A hostel for wanderers and to make new friends). We kept our luggage and were deciding on what to do first, go for a walk, eat, or relax. So, we chose to smoke a cigarette. We were greeted by the Zostel host who told us about a group tour that was going to the Dalai Hills. We were interested, but there were two genuine problems- Most of us did not have any riding experience in the mountains, and it would be impossible for a group of five girls to get ready within half an hour and with just one washroom. So, we passed the tour and smoked instead.

After resting and taking a billion pictures, we decided to go to Landour Bakery. One of the top-notch places to visit in Mussoorie. It is known for being the home to one of the greatest writers- Ruskin Bond and for selling overpriced maggies. Less money, no transportation, and five unfit females did not make a good combination. “We should keep walking and see where we go”- Never trust a person who says this because they would make you trek the most beautiful and exotic uphill hike. But we did trust her, so we started our hike. After 5 minutes, we saw a group of cab drivers and were ready to pay them anything to be taken up without any walks. But my friend kept on saying- We should keep walking and see where we go. So, we did. It was already half-past soon and the landscape had started changing its shape with the rising altitude. With fewer shops, more mountains, and semi-covering black clouds, it felt like I was regaining my sanity.

 After twenty minutes of struggle and zero breath, we finally asked a cab driver. Taking inspiration from Sarojini Nagar and our inner Delhites we bargained. “No problem bhaiya, we will go on our own.” I said triggering the male ego of the driver and he said- “Haa jao jao madam, hum bhi dekhte hai.” This male ego was enough to unite us back and make us walk 10 Kilometers straight uphill.

We struggled, cried, smoked, watched some of the most beautiful sceneries, and reached Lal Tibba, which served as the first checkpoint for reaching Landour Bakery and even the last for us. It’s a small town at an altitude that has small 4- 5 shops selling the same food items and one exciting pub kinda restaurant. The only difference between these shops was how well the shopkeepers were talking to you. After resting our breathless lungs, the first thing to do was eat. We ordered momos, maggie, and coffee. “Aye, have you guys tried Laphing?” I asked this question and all my friends were just curious to eat it. Provided I asked that question because I saw a cute café on the way to our dreading quest. I tried my first Laphing in Delhi in a small place called Majnu Ka Tila. I went there for the first time with my overly excited Mom who had made a list of things to try and made me try this. It was cold, extremely spicy, but finger-licking good.

When it started getting darker, like any other female in India, we started our drive back from a less populated and lonely place back to Mall Road- a place essentially made to fool tourists where you find expensive pieces that are traded from Delhi just to be sold to us at higher costs. But the only thought I had was to have a plate of Laphing. I managed to interest everyone in that plate and we stopped. Unfortunately, it was a Dog’s café. Now a fact about me, I don’t hate animals, but I am just scared to admit I get scared. Two of my friends started petting the owner’s dog.

I am not the type who asks people to wash their hands after touching a dog, but I am also not the one who pets dogs, so I focused on Laphing. Small yellow-colored rolls, filled with wai-wai noodles and a mixture of other spicy ingredients which made me question why I was actually missing this from in Bangalore. We ordered two plates over a chit-chatty session with the host and finished it in no time. They all thanked me for the Laphing and hated me for just ordering two plates. But it was getting darker, and so it was time to reach back.

We climbed back to the Mall road, exchanged a few puffs of vape, and waited in line to get our Domino's order. Now our goals had changed- get back to Zostel, eat, smoke, and drink. So, we did exactly that and woke up the next morning with a hangover. The next day was about going to Dalai Hills, the part of the trek some of us dreaded the most.

Five girls, hungover, with gifts, stomachs all full, and one diary?? start their trek to a hike (yet again). But this time the trek was much more populated and smaller. “Bhai, Laphing”- said all of us together looking at a woman, but we were already full that an additional layer of food would end us all in the washroom. Yet again, our ego was challenged by a shopkeeper who asked us to wait till the rain stopped, but we continued the trek, to see “The Dalai Hills”. An epitome of beauty at a peak, enclosed with mountains, a chilly breeze, and some tourists all around. It was the right place for me to sit, smoke a cigarette, and talk about art. So, I sat with one of my friends who was done taking a lot of pictures and we discussed the random thoughts of looking at two mountains and the broken houses built on them.

Submerged between the mountains, craving for art, we all got a realization of being grown up and coming on trips without our parents. Life as a woman is already very hard, I feel with the number of restrictions imposed fairly from our parents. Their scare and worries are justified, but what is not really justified is the freedom that is snatched from us. Looking to at the views and free clouds shining under the sunlight made me envy them. So, I took the time to open my notebook, write, and sketch something for memory. The chilly breeze felt like peace, the peace I get after eating biryani and listening to my favorite track.

"It looks like a pathway."

“It looks like your conscious and subconscious mind.” And the discussions went along. Until, it was time to grab a tea, maggie, and go back from where we started. We roamed a bit on the Mall Road, this time taking a newer route, and saw the same Laphing shop. It took no time for us to take two plates of Laphing again and enjoy it with the rain. At this point, Laphing became our sixth member of the trip. We are independent girls but we need to get back on time. So, we boarded our train back to Delhi, with the thought of getting back from our escape. But aren’t escapes meant to take you back to reality?

None of us wanted to hear the answer to that. We got anxious, fought a little, smoked a lot, said goodbyes, and transported back to reality.