The blue waters of Brienz Lake are shimmering in the sun. Expressionless eyelashless cows are munching on some picture perfect green grass. Tulips are blooming prettily outside Swiss chalets. It could be a scene right out of a Yash Chopra film but there is no Shahrukh Khan traipsing across the yellow wildflower covered hillside, eyes misty with unspoken love. My very own Shahrukh Khan is staring stonily ahead, his long fingers resting on the steering wheel of the Mercedes Vito he is driving.
**
Inside the car, dark clouds are looming. Manoj, my husband mumbles something gruffly; Puneet (my favourite brother in law) doesn’t bother to answer and the temperatures dip lower. Requests to put on music are ignored. I turn to my cell in defiance. “Jeet hi lenge baazi ham tum…pyaar ka bandhan tute naa…” the soulful lyrics of the old ditty fill our ears. From the back seat, Saransh, the son whimpers his disapproval while Isha, who has been reading a book, noisily opens a packet of wafers. Cousin Tanu and I (stressed since yesterday since the two guys (who used to be best friends back home) are refusing to talk to each other in vilayat over some silly half-witted male thing) look at each other and grin.
**
Since we shan’t be washing dirty linen, let me just say that it takes 12 hours, Asha Bhonsle’s “Jo bhi hai bas yahi ek pal hai”; and a bottle of Old Monk rum (lugged all the way from Air Force Station, Palam) to thaw the ice and thankfully the driving holiday across Austria and Switzerland returns to Bollywood terrain leaving us free to appreciate the snow capped Alps; the lush meadows; the super fit cyclists; the quaint villages with begonias and geranium blooming on window sills. It also allows Tanu and me to dream once again of the retired life we are plotting to have in neighbourhood huts on some sleepy hillside in Garhwal, a few decades from now.
**
Sitting on a log bench in Axalp with the snow dappled Alps in front of me the next day I notice a man flying overhead and wave to him. He reminds me of an old friend. The wi fi brings a message from a classmate who is testing audio chat and I listen in delight. The jangling cowbells have me itching to make a video for my mom since I feel she might never come to Switzerland and I want her to have no regrets since it is just a sanitized version of Auli back home in Pauri Garhwal. With better roads.
**
And then I arm twist myself into switching the wi fi off, reluctantly severing the ties pulling me back across the seven seas. The withdrawal symptoms eventually pass and it is only when I stop checking my cell every few minutes like a trained seal that I am able to open my arms and embrace my first Europe experience.
**
To be continued…
Rachna Bisht-Rawat is a journalist and writer but mostly she is mom to an 11 year old and gypsy wife to an Army officer whose work takes the Rawats across the length and width of India. She blogs at http://www.rachnabisht.com/