Not all those who wander are lost

Life's not a walk in the park, but walking can offer up glimpses of a multitude of lives being lived alongside.  

Always a fan of heritage walks, guided tours, and what not (although, I've not been on many), because I love stories and don't discriminate regarding the places I get them, I have walked about on my own a lot, be it in my hometown or in places I have travelled. 

Usually, my mom is my perfect walking partner when travelling. Like me, she has no hang ups about taking vehicles to check out sights to see if there is an option of walking to explore and discover. It started with our first duo trip to Cooch Behar, where we spent our days walking about the town, discovering exciting places and learning the bylanes. On subsequent vacations out of the city, even with other people travelling with us, Ma and I have spent a lot of time just wandering about. I'm thankful for my sense of direction, even if I don't have a good grasp on what place is exactly where, since I'll eventually get us back to the hotel. My mother manages to confidently get lost in our own neighbourhood. 

I recently rediscovered the joy of walking aimlessly with a childhood friend (we're closer now than we were when younger). On our first international trip together, we devoted an entire day to a tour on foot. Although we had a destination in mind, getting to the spot took us through the most untouristy alleys and deserted lanes of an old city that amazed us with its rich heritage at every corner. I will always be low-key grateful for not having fully-functioning internet at that time because it led to us actually exploring the place.

A couple of days ago, we both realised our long-thought-of dream of taking a walk inside an almost-abandoned housing complex — an urban ruin — in our immediate locality. I've always seen the place from outside in the middle of the night, on my way home from work. And it came up in conversation enough that on a sunny afternoon, she suggested we take a walk there. Neither of us is immune to the effect of ghost stories, and winter evenings are not the time to fool around with the idea of deserted landscapes. 

Located across the road from a thriving mall, the housing complex looked absolutely empty of human residents from the outside. Once inside, though, we discovered there were people living in a few of the flats inside several dilapidated buildings. But a majority of the structures were unfit for even animals to live in.

Creeping vegetation has claimed most of the concrete structures; the buildings creepily smiled at us with their unhinged doors and stared at us through their broken windows. In two or three buildings in various stages of disrepair, there was clothing hanging in the balconies, signalling that at least one flat in a five-storey building was occupied. 

The wildlife, though, was pleasantly surprising. There were a fair number of unusual birds, small groups of local strays, and several mongooses. The latter hinted at the presence of snakes, so we didn't wade through creepers to venture inside the buildings (this is the official reason. The unofficial reason is that we were kind of scared of ghosts).

We didn't linger since I had to get to my office and she had to get back to her work. But it was an hour or so of childlike wonder that made us feel like we were inside an Enid Blyton mystery. My friend posted about our walk on social media, and I've already had a few people asking me for directions to the place. And my friend and I were actually talking about how if more people knew about the place, it'd be too crowded too soon. But I'm thinking, maybe awareness could help rebuild the complex. But then, where would the mongooses go?