How do you travel back to a city that broke you?

‘We can go somewhere in Rajasthan---“ But I had already started violently shaking my head.

 My friend would sigh and look for another getaway spot. She wouldn’t quite understand why I say that I’m trying to ‘save our friendship’ by not visiting Rajasthan. Something always goes wrong there. Always. I don’t care if it’s a ‘haunted’ hotel, or ‘haunted’ friendship, or chicken curry so good it makes the news—Rajasthan and I haven’t been friends for a long time.

But, she promised me that we would reclaim it, but I didn’t want to take the risk. Six times a charm, and I was done with it, even though it had everything my travel-happy heart would normally desire: Forts, lakes, sights, and the ever-famous laal-maas (a form of chicken curry). Till my thirties, I had zoned out any friend who suggested it for a ‘quick vacation’.

Reclaiming cities

Till recently, I didn’t know how I could ‘reclaim’ Rajasthan. It was impossible; a clotted mess of memories in my head, of things, from friendships, situations to people, just falling apart. But, after travelling with my closest friend, I learnt that maybe it’s just the right companion, and your confidence in each other.  She kept to her promise of reclaiming the city: We spent two days scaling Jaigarh fort, Nahargarh, and seeing the sunset point, drinking a soft beverage on the table, before making our way down.

Suddenly, Jaipur wasn’t tinged with anxiety or fear: I could see the pinkness in the city again. We laughed through the exhaustion as we marched up steps, got pushed by other visitors, slowly piecing together new memories of the city. And we ate, stuffed ourselves silly, till we couldn’t move, finding one-stop restaurant where we would return, just to eat laal maas. And found different corners in the streets to buy chikkan kari, sarees and new kurtas.

I did have a slight worry on returning. But that was 2023, and now it’s 2025. The fear around Jaipur has abated.

The memories that didn’t allow me to reclaim it

Why did I fear and fret about cities?

You would think that I would have moved on from seemingly silly and unpleasant childhood experiences. You would probably advise me too, “That was long ago. Things were different, then.” It’s what I would tell myself too. But the few visits and the aftermath would always replay.

Nothing dramatic happened, at least. I wasn’t kidnapped or something, if that’s what you are beginning wonder. The first time, I visited as a 10-year-old, going from school to Jaipur. Fought with friends. Tearful, pre-teens shrieking at each other. And there was another chaos that was unfolding: Apparently, our hotel was haunted. To be honest, that didn’t scare me, while most of my classmates were running around planning to communicate with ghosts, whose only job it seemed, was to ‘steal 28 packets of chips’.

So, tears, a waterfall, if you please.

But that was the first time. At the age of 14, I went from school to Udaipur with a different set of friends in another school. And, you can imagine: It’s the thick of teenage-hood, when people are hormonal, ready to fight, some are unable to understand themselves, least of all others. None of us had stellar communication skills—just unfiltered teenage chaos, trying to hold on, and also let of friendships we barely understood.

That’s where I was.

So, loneliness flooded, and we were all a bunch of indecisive 14-year-olds, unable to communicate what the real problem was. The problem was that we weren’t compatible as friends; I didn’t want to see that, and they didn’t know a better way to say that. More tears and I did something that I wasn’t too proud of: I stormed off down the street, away from where we were staying. It was only a few metres but it was enough for our teachers to notice and panic. Unfortunately, for years after that, it was the only thing that came to my mind, when I remembered Udaipur. Accompanied by a lot of shame.

And to top off the Udaipur trip, a round of ‘this hotel is haunted’ began circulating. Everyone was in fits of fear, or just dramatic, it’s hard to say.

I don’t think we appreciate school-teachers enough.

And the days that followed on return were bitter and miserable. Udaipur was ruled out forever from my travel plans. I didn’t want to go ever go near that place again. I have no recollection of what the palaces even looked like, despite the school organising painstaking tours.

I think I stayed away from Udaipur, not just for the bad memories of broken friendships and growing pains of adolescence, but just, because I didn't want to remember the person that I was, then, either.

We're cruel to our past selves, more than others have been to us.

The extremes of Rajasthan

But it’s a strange thing about my memories of Rajasthan. They’ve gone in extremes. Either the trip has been so bitter and miserable, that I never want to remember it again, or, the trip was just so wonderful and good, but on returning, something went irreparably wrong. There was a frightening sense of permanence that I started associating with Rajasthan.

For instance, I loved my family trip to Jaisalmer and Pokhran, where my cousin and I scanned roads looking for dhabas to eat butter chicken and buttered naans. The memories of those days are filled with the soundtrack of Kal Ho Na Ho’s songs, because my cousin, who was like a brother to me, kept playing it. His pet dog was with us, travelling in the car on the road trips, too. She ran with us, as we ran up and down sand dunes, and as it was a time without digital cameras, we still have the polaroids.

But, my cousin passed away, years later. And our best photos were from those days, and so once again, I didn’t have the courage to visit Jaisalmer Somehow, I willed myself to believe that Jaisalmer would just hold those memories, and it could not have the space or strength for more.

So, what now?

The topic of Udaipur has been brought up, a fair few times. My resistance is less vehement than it was before. Perhaps it was the confidence in our friendship. Perhaps, it was finally letting go of childhood memories that had so resolutely clouded my perception of a city. It is beautiful; maybe I’m seeing and realising it better now. Maybe, this time I’ll remember the details of the palace, soak in the memories of the streets again, the temple, and finally see the lake for its beauty.

The pain of reclaiming

The past is a different country and they do things differently there, as LP Hartley once said.

So, how do you reclaim a place that you have, well, at least, according to others an ‘irrational’ fear of? Maybe, you start by reclaiming parts of yourself again. Maybe, you just learn to accept and forgive your past self for not knowing better, and that the current version of you, has built a different, stronger world.

Time does heal. Friendships do heal. I still don’t know when I will return to Jaisalmer. But, I know that I will.