Islands of Memories: Jagdish’s Journey Through the Endless Blues of Andaman
As the aeroplane hovered above the Andaman & Nicobar Islands, I looked out of the window to watch the endless blue stretch far beyond the horizon. The sea below, calm and infinite, reminded me of something - or rather, someone.
My parents.
Fifty years of togetherness. Fifty years of love, patience, and unspoken understanding. My wife and I had been planning this trip for months, wanting to gift them something beyond material possessions. No extravagant parties, no grand gestures - just time. Time to relive, to remember, and to create new memories.
My father, sitting by the aisle, adjusted his glasses as his eyes scanned the flight magazine with an absent-minded focus. Beside him, my mother had her hands folded in her lap, with her silver bangles softly clinking as she turned to look at me.
“You did not have to do all this, beta,” she said gently.
I smiled. “We wanted to. You both deserve this.”
As the aircraft descended, the islands emerged in full glory - pristine beaches, thick green forests, and a sea so blue that it seemed unreal. A perfect setting for a story that had begun five decades ago.
Echoes of the Past in Port Blair
Our journey began in Port Blair, a city that carried history within its walls and stories within its shores. At Corbyn’s Cove Beach, we watched the sun paint the sky in warm hues, and the gentle waves touched our feet as if it was welcoming us. My parents walked side by side, silent but content.
Soon, we came across the Cellular Jail, which was a solemn reminder of the past. As the light and sound show started in the evening, I saw my father’s face illuminated by the flickering lights, lost in thought. Perhaps remembering the stories his own father had told him - stories of struggle, sacrifice, and freedom.
After an entire day of exploration in Port Blair, we returned to our hotel, and my mother placed her hand on mine. “Your father always loved history,” she murmured, a soft smile playing on her lips.
And just like that, I was reminded of all the little things that made their love story unique. It was not built on grand gestures and extravagant words. It was in the quiet moments, in the way they understood each other without speaking.
Time Slowed Down on Havelock Island
The next morning, we set off for Havelock Island on a ferry that sliced through the waves. Upon reaching, we were welcomed by an island that felt untouched by time.
At Radhanagar Beach, I watched my mother slip off her sandals to feel the cool sand beneath her feet. My father stood beside her and watched the horizon. They had been young once, walking together by a river in their hometown, dreaming of a life they had now lived.
My wife and I walked a little behind them so they could have their moment. The waves came and went, washing away footprints only to make space for new ones.
The next morning took us to Elephant Beach, where the underwater world came alive. My father was hesitant at first, but eventually joined me for a snorkelling experience. As we dipped beneath the surface, surrounded by schools of vibrant fish and corals that danced with the current, I saw a look of wonder cross his face - childlike and pure.
Later, as we sat under the shade of a coconut tree, he turned to me and said, “I never thought I would do something like this at my age.”
I simply smiled. “It is never too late, Baba.”
A Love Unchanged on the Neil Island
As we made our way to Neil Island, the pace of life seemed to slow even further. The beaches here were not crowded, the roads were lined with swaying palm trees, and the silence was comforting.
At Laxmanpur Beach, we stood before the Natural Coral Bridge. My parents held hands, which was a rare sight but one that warmed my heart.
Moving further, as the waves kissed the shore in an endless rhythm at the Bharatpur Beach, my mother turned to my father. “Remember that monsoon afternoon? The one when we got caught in the rain?”
My father nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You were angry at me for not carrying an umbrella.”
“And you laughed,” she recalled. “Some of the best memories happen when things do not go as planned.”
He looked at her then, really looked at her as if seeing the young girl he had fallen in love with all over again.
Fifty years. And love still lingered in the spaces between their words.
The Mysteries of Baratang and an Unspoken Goodbye
Our final adventure took us to Baratang Island. The Limestone Caves, with their eerie, twisting formations, stood like guards of time, while the Mud Volcanoes bubbled with quiet persistence.
As we explored, I watched my parents walk ahead, their pace slow but steady. My wife slipped her hand into mine. “I hope we grow old like them,” she said softly.
I squeezed her hand. “We will.”
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