“Madam, you have come one day late,” exclaimed the wheelchair attendant when I got off my Thai Airways flight in Mumbai. No, the wheelchair was not for my still-sprained ankle (which I had managed to hurt again by attempting an ashtanga yoga pose on vacation), but for my octogenarian father-in-law. I looked at him quizzically. “Yesterday Deepika and Ranveer were at the airport leaving for their wedding. See my photo,” he said proudly, as he pushed his phone near my face.
I didn’t need the wheelchair attendant and Bollywood weddings to remind me I was home. That happens as soon as one attempts to board an India-bound flight anywhere in the world. First, business or coach, we love travelling with our bori-bistar , huge bags stuffed with God knows what. Isn’t everything available in India now? Forgive me for sounding cantankerous, but it’s a byproduct of easing back into desi life.
I thought back to our holiday. It was a blissful, non-polluted, non-noisy Diwali week in Phuket. Ever since we started going, about a decade ago, the island has developed at a rapid clip. The once-primitive airport is positively swank. Hoardings for luxury real estate developments could compete with ones we see in Mumbai. Those who remember the island from the late 1990s don’t like to visit anymore because they recall dirt roads and empty pristine beaches, not the fancy hotels and beach clubs that now dot every major area.
Much to their chagrin, I decided to impart a quick history lesson to the kids. A Portuguese explorer, Fernao Mendes Pinto — who was one of the first Europeans to write about Phuket in the mid-1500s — called the island ‘Junk Ceylon’. The kids began to giggle. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Phuket is named after a mall,” they squealed. I laughed, too. They were referring to Jung Ceylon, the well-known mall in Patong, which they had been dragged to a few years earlier.
A few days later, our clan hit Millionaire’s Row, or Kamala Beach, so dubbed for its fancy houses along a tranquil bay. We went to hang out at the Ibiza import, Café Del Mar. The beach club was quiet, given the time of year (Phuket picks up socially mid-November onwards, when the chance of random rain recedes). We were luxuriating in what was almost a private beach when I ran into Celina and Jeh Wadia (Bombay Dyeing, Go Air). Go Air recently started direct flights to Phuket from Mumbai and Delhi. “Thank you for making our lives easier,” I told them, adding teasingly, “but I guess that means we are going to have a lot more Indians running around the island.” Jeh laughed, “Yes, we think it’s a growing market.”
That’s good news for the Indian restaurants that dot the island, primarily in touristy Patong, which Phuket veterans stay clear of. What is paradise for first-timers is anathema to anyone who gets to know the rest of the island, which can be restful depending on one’s location. Ban Tao beach and Koh Bon are just some of these serene spots. There are yoga retreats, and if fitness is your focus, there are rigorous boot camps. Some folks I know were there to do intensive training in the jungle. Phuket is what you make of it — hedonistic for some, healthy for others, and a happy in-between for me.
This fortnightly column tracks the indulgent pursuits of the one-percenters.
