Every journey stands on its own

 

I look again at the cute little turtle hatchling, its flippers flapping energetically, as if a sixth sense informing itself that it would soon get to merge with the salty waters, its natural home . On a white plastic tub, its black colour seems even more contrasting while I wonder in which sense is it an ‘olive’ ridley turtle. I guess growth dulls away the darkness of its complexion. It strangely faces the sea on the west though the waters are not visible given we are inside an enclosure on Kuta Beach. To check if it is a coincidence, I turn the tub and lo, it turns around again to face the sea! Instincts be like this, little one, I murmur between ourselves while an old Balinese conservationist comes forth and asks us all to move on to the sea to witness a grand spectacle.

We form a chain of people - all tourists - more than a hundred of us, just a few metres away from the tumbling waves of the Indian Ocean. On the blow of a sharp whistle, we simultaneously release the hatchlings from the tub to the sands, and watch with bated breaths as our little ones struggle excitedly to wash in the salty happiness of their first ever homecoming. There’s a lot of hue and cry, shouts of excitement and shrills of happiness as we witness the mass release, while gigabytes of hash-tagged memories get uploaded in no time. In a few minutes, the black toddlers have merged with the frothing seas as our conservationist guides remind us that years later, they will come back, imbibed with the wisdom of the seven seas on these very sands rewriting yet another miracle of nature.

The excited crowds begin to disburse, the sun begins to set dappling the world in warm ruddiness, while I cannot help feel a strange sense of elation in the noisy, rambunctious sands of Kuta that somehow seems to surpass the grandeur of other great exotic memories. No, not the white silica laden beaches of Maldives, nor the coral atolls of Caledonia, nor the Bohemian liberty of Goa comes close. And yet I look around and wonder how this dirty, rackety, dingy beach in Bali has created an indelible memory that I will treasure forever.

Why do I narrate this story, you may wonder? Of all the locations I visited in Bali, Kuta was the most touristy. Everyone who knows the introverted poet in me had recommended me to skip Kuta.

‘It’s the worst of the lot.’

‘Full of crass tourists and pestering vendors.’ 

‘Go to the farthest north if you want the best memories.’

And yet I had decided to stay in Kuta. Not because I loved the din and noise, but because I had points that could best be spent in the Mercure, Kuta. So there was I, expectations rock bottomed, an invisible cringe on my face at having to wade through the most boisterous part of Bali. 

I walked through the plastic strewn sands of the beach, and looked at the muddy turbulent brown waters of the sea, chiding snobbishly at the cost of tourism when I saw a large Turtle statue with a passionate looking guy talking over a megaphone about conservation of olive ridley turtles. As I was drawn closer, I understood that he was talking about efforts of some society to preserve turtle eggs laid on this very beach. Wait, this beach and turtles? I couldn’t believe it. Yet , it was true - nature, fortunately or unfortunately cannot change at a pace faster than man’s, so the turtles who were born on these sands years back were destined by nature’s magic to return here to spawn the next generation, which in turn would be held by destiny to repeat the cycle, again and again. No matter how dirty the sands got or how many feet tramped on them. The excessive impacts of tourism would have spelt doom for these turtles, had it not been for the Bali turtle conservation society to step in and save the eggs, guard them to be hatched in a protected enclosure only to get them released back to the seas some day. Through the hands of strangers and tourists, that we all learn the need to conserve.

It led to one of the most magical experiences I ever had. Perhaps because it is easy to find beauty in the unspoiled largesse of an island far removed from humanity. But to wrangle a higher sense of elation in a noisy, spoiled, over-touristy hub - now that contradiction would be as humbling as it would be majestic. Add to it a ray of hope, and you know that the journey was worthwhile even before reaching any destination.

Standing there on the sands of Kuta, I also realised a deeper truth - that every journey stands on its own. There might be thousands of people before you who have had a bitter experience, but that does not ensure your story will be equally vitriolic. You may be able to write a new story altogether for your ink, your page, your words and your story-telling are all different. And you need to experience it in your world, with yourself the protagonist to decide how it really ends, not how everyone else has ended theirs. Every journey is different and there is no repetition as there are just so many variables that can go wrong, or even right. Even if you yourself go to the same place twice, there is that variable called time that will craft two separate stories. Whichever way it goes, it is best perhaps to go with an open mind, reminding yourself this is your story. It’s good to learn from others’ lessons, but when it comes to living one’s life, where’s the joy in plagiarism?

Well, Kuta did not turn out to be a blunder. It was noisy, yes but it was thriving, almost pulsating on its own rights. I stopped at every corner in Kuta to admire the beauty of the Balinese temples sandwiched between high-rises, and gazed admiringly at the intricate beauty of the garudas and the monstrous doorkeepers, I enjoyed having a dinner under frangipanis in the outdoor at the legendary Poppies restaurant and after midnight I enjoyed a walk in the all-awake promenade eating ice cream and reminding myself from one of my favourite movies, that Bheed hum jaise logon se hi to banta hai - we are the ones who create the crowds we talk of…

Yes Bali was beautiful - Ubud, Canggu, Jimbaran each created photo-albums that were breath-taking on their own. But so was Kuta. Every journey is special on its own. Every journey will teach you something new, provided you are willing to learn something, rather than be stereotyped. As the saying goes, the teacher appears when the student is ready. 

Yes, the journey reveals, when you are willing to see…

7th August, 2021

(Photos - Author's archives)