A Weekend Holiday

This was the plan.

My four co-workers plus a good friend of ours from Bhubaneswar were going to take a 6am train to Balasore together. Then we would split up: our friend to her family friend’s home, my coworkers and I to the beach at Chandipur to find a place to stay for the night. Several people had suggested we stay at a government-owned hotel called Panthniwas, but one of my coworkers had found on the Internet that there were many guest houses, hotels and resorts in the area. She insisted that it would be better to pick among them when we arrived for the option that was nicest and closest to the beach.

Well plans have a way of unraveling. Here’s what acutally happened.

Groggy after a three-hour early morning train journey, we exited the station not quite knowing where to find a taxi. Our friend had a car waiting for her and casually suggested that we join her for tea.

Now, quick-decision making in a group of four can be tricky, especially when an invitation is given. You usually need to exchange furtive glances to attempt to gage each person’s preference. I, however, skipped this step and impulsively announced that I would love to see an Oriya home. And with this we were locked in.

We rode 15 minutes before coming up to these large white gates. As they swung open, they revealed a bright white house standing squat and wide in a sea of green. The extensive front lawn had trees bearing jackfruit and coconut, and there were vibrantly colored plants lining the edge of a large veranda. We found out later that the husband of the family friend had a prestigious and lucrative job with the police.

Our hostess greeted us at the car and escorted us into her living room. She brought us all tall glasses of water and we took our seats on the couch. It was at this moment that a small bit of dread started forming in my stomach. I had forgotten till that second that tea = awkward small talk. The conversation started blandly as we explained where we were from and what we were doing in Orissa. Then it turned to our plans for the weekend. Our hostess asked us if we had booked at Panthniwas. When we told her we hadn’t, an expression of shock and surprise took over her face. "But what will you do if it’s booked,” she blurted out. She went on to explain it was second Saturday – a day when government offices were closed and getaway areas become packed. We explained we thought we’d try another place. To which she said: “there is no other place!” Talking out loud to herself she said, “I mean worse comes to worse you can stay here."

But then she composed herself and told us not to worry. She ushered us outside for a tour of the grounds. As we walked out we heard her well-connected husband on the phone clearly inquiring about accommodations for us in Hindi.

By the time we had seen her massive kitchen garden with vegetables ranging from okra to corn and took a look at her two cows gorging themselves on bushels of hay, a new plan had been arranged for us.

We walked in to find an elaborate breakfast spread out for us. As the couple was originally from South India the breakfast included idlis (a bread that I had previously thought I didn’t like as the canteen manages to make them taste like vegetarian chik nuggets), sambhar (a kind of curry), homemade papad (think paper-thin, large crispy crackers) and two Oriya desserts. My favorite was a version of rabdi, a pudding-like dessert made of condensed milk, sugar and honey. As we ate, we were informed that her husband had found us a place as the sole guests at Forest Guesthouse, a secluded house right on the beach. They had also booked a car to bring us there.

When we arrived at the guesthouse it was much more beautiful that we could have imagined. We were offered two high ceiling rooms with queen-sized posted beds. Attached to each room was a dressing room and a bathroom (with hot water!). The bedroom doors could open up to the front porch for a clear view of the sea. As we took our self-led tour, the caretaker was busily picking up things here and there. He apologized that he hadn’t had a chance to fully clean up from the last guests. I quipped that they probably got kicked out when he got a call from a top official about our need for a room. But then later, when we had our swimming gear on and were walking towards the water, we passed by a few people sitting by a vehicle. There were in fact the previous guests who were asked to vacate the guesthouse 30 minutes earlier.