My 2024 travelogue
2024 taught me to clap for myself at every milestone and embrace the chaos as much as the calm
Sukriti Taneja
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The lights dimmed, the crowd fell silent, and the first strum of Prateek Kuhad’s guitar echoed through the room. As his voice wove through, I felt the year fold back in on itself. Each lyric was a reflection, revealing the moments that had shaped me, the feelings I thought I had left behind, and the path I had walked – reminding me of everything that brought me here.
This year began in transit, quite literally. On 1 January, while the world embraced resolutions, I was aboard a flight from the UK, heading home to surprise my parents. Frozen in disbelief and then melting into joy, their expressions were worth every hour spent planning. In their embrace, I felt a reset, a soft beginning to a year that would be anything but quiet.
January closed with another celebration: my closest friend’s wedding. As I watched him step into a new chapter, I couldn’t help but think of all the bonds that have moulded me. This thought and my curiosity for the world beyond carried me into February, when I found myself on the ghats of Varanasi with my dad, my best friend. The city buzzed with contradictions – life and death, noise and serenity. But amidst it all, I felt stripped bare. The river didn’t offer answers, but it gave me clarity, enough to see the beauty in the questions themselves.
New home
In March, I created a new home – not alone, but with someone I call a brother, though we share no blood. We filled it with late-night talks, shared dreams, and a sense of belonging that didn’t need to be spoken aloud.
Just when familiarity began to sink in, April arrived with its own plans. Life felt like a crossroads – a tug-of-war between where I had been and where I was heading.
April saw the bank break, but bucket lists get ticked. I bought my first camera, a symbolic declaration, a promise to myself to see the world more vividly, to frame my story with care. That story led me to Montenegro. A long-awaited group trip, one that had lingered in chat threads, slipped through the cracks of everyday chaos and became a reality. It wasn’t just a holiday; it was a sanctuary. The turquoise waters, the unending laughter, the unspoken bonds, Montenegro reminded me that sometimes, the only way forward is to lean on the people who remind you to breathe or drink.
Quiet but not easy
May was quieter but not easier. Vulnerability became my closest companion. I learned to sit with my feelings, to face them without running away (and ultimately dropping my tough-girl act). Perhaps that’s what gave me the courage to take my first solo trip in June. It wasn’t about escaping, it was about meeting myself in unfamiliar streets, discovering strength in solitude, and realising that being alone didn’t have to mean being lonely. It wasn’t just about the destination; it was about discovering a strength I hadn’t known I possessed.
July marked the end of yet another chapter as I wrapped up my UK journey. The month started with watching my sister graduate, a moment of pride and closure. It felt like the perfect goodbye, celebratory yet bittersweet. The last week of my life in a city that saw me grow up from a young brat to an independent woman, so to say, was a rollercoaster of emotions. I knew that returning to India wasn’t just going to be about a change in geographical location; it was a shift in identity waiting to unravel. I was no longer an expat but someone rediscovering their roots. With my goodbyes in order, a heart full of gratitude, six overflowing suitcases, and my mind ready for what lies ahead, I boarded my flight back home, leaving behind a home I created on my own.
Unpacking memories
August was a slow unravelling. Resettling wasn’t just about unpacking bags; it was about unpacking memories. I relearned the rhythm of a life I had left behind, finding comfort in the familiar and surprise in what had changed. By September, I found myself in entirely new territory, my first corporate job (yay!). The routines of adulting, the highs of independence, and the lows of self-doubt became my new normal. Amid the routines of adulting, one moment stood out: my birthday. For the first time in two years, I celebrated surrounded by loved ones. The joy of being the ‘main character’, without the weight of always needing the spotlight, felt grounding. It was a perfect prologue to my chapter on adulthood.
October arrived in a kaleidoscope of lights and festivals, a momentary pause to soak in the happiness around me. October saw yet another milestone I had dreamed of for years: the submission of my first draft. Not just any draft but the beginning of a children’s book series that feels like a piece of my heart on paper. Crafting those stories, imagining the wonder in a child’s eyes as they turn the pages, was an experience both surreal and grounding. It wasn’t just a creative endeavour; it was a promise to the storyteller in me, a reminder that dreams, no matter how long they take, are always worth chasing.
As I now sit in November, I find myself marvelling at how quickly the year has passed, yet how much it has held.
A journey that was mine
As Cold Mess played, and the audience sang along, filling the silence of the night sky, I realised this year had been its own kind of travel, a journey inward and outward, through joy and pain, growth and vulnerability. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was mine. I’ve learned to clap for myself at every milestone, to stand tall after every fall, and to embrace the chaos as much as the calm.
The best journeys aren’t always marked by miles; they’re marked by how far you’ve come within yourself. And as I cheer for the version of me who started this year and the one who is ending it, I know this: the road ahead is full of possibility, and I’m ready for what’s to come.
