Recently a relative visited home with his wife, and many a times, he recounted encounters with solo travelers, whom he met on his Australian sojourn that he had few months back and how their paths were crossed and experiences shared in fleeting moments of evanescent context. He was too flabbergasted to know that people in the world go on a journey alone without the company of their families or friends. I gently disagreed with my relative’s astonishment at solo travel. I shared my own contemplations- We come into this world alone, and we depart alone. Why, then, should we be afraid to travel its wonders by ourselves?

And I, a wanderer at heart, couldn't help but recall the wise words of William Hazlitt which he shared in his scholarly essay 'On Going a Journey': “One of the pleasantest things in the world is going a journey; but I like to go my myself. I can enjoy society in a room; but out of doors, nature is company enough for me. I am then never less alone that when alone.”
In Hazlitt's poignant prose, I found an akin soul, one who saturnalias in the solitude of the zig-zag lane. For in the closeness and stillness of nature, we often discover our most profound companions – our thoughts, our dreams, and our own introspective hearts, staying away from the hurries and flurries of metropolis.
In that moment of dialogue, the words spilled forth like babbling Dee, carrying with them the essence of my own wanderlust. For in embracing solitude, we can discover that the most profound connections are those we forge with ourselves, and later, with the world around us.
Unfamiliar roads and faces have a way of stirring my psyche. There is no emotional luggage or cargo of past to recall with them spoiling the ecstasy. I feel that every new face is a potential story, every strange sound a possible melody, and every unexplored alleyway a hidden treasure waiting to be unearthed.
In the midst of such uncertainty, one can find a strange sense of comfort. For in the unfamiliar, one can be free to rediscover oneself, to shed the skin of familiarity, and to explore and emerge anew, like a butterfly unfurling its wings in the warmth of golden blaze of sun or silver gleam of moon on an unknown land.
Either there is the jagged beauty of hilly slopes or the serene tranquility of watering places, it draws the souls towards it to relish utmost. The peaks shrouded in mist, their trails winding like veins on an ancient map fill the lungs with fresh air and heart with rhythmic symphony and mind with witty ideas, where do you need any company to spoil the equanimity of being lone. Even one can sit by waters, watching the world slow down, feeling the peacefulness seep into my very being for whole day without any company.
On the solo journey, to spark introspection and self-discovery, one can read Satre or Freud, Woolf or Beauvoir sitting near the glass window of a rumbling train or soaring plane. One can enjoy beauty of Cherry blossoms blooming on the roads of Osaka. One can write poems or sing walking on the majestic trails of Muir Woods where the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft filtering of sunlight through the canopy above or seeing the sunshine reaching to brown humus-rich gravel loam, making its way through towering Redwood trees, and no doubt, it is utter delight to heart and ignite the creative spark within.
The road not taken, according to Robert Frost, is the road of solo traveling for the brave and the curious. Solo traveling, a journey of self-discovery is a monarchy where few dare to stride. And yet, it is here that one finds the true essence of freedom. But the poor fellow, my aforementioned relative accustomed to sharing his travels with his wife, couldn't fathom the joy of going solo. The bliss of going singly, only that can understand, who tasted its fruit.
For in solo travel, one finds a unique type of liberation. Unencumbered by the needs and expectations of others, the solo traveler is free to roam, to explore, and to indulge in the beauty of the unknown. It is a journey that awakens the senses, that stirs the soul, and that leaves an indelible mark on the heart.
Oliver Runner in the poem ‘Freedom’ expresses the will of going on a trip- “Give me the long, straight road before me, / A clear, cold day with a nipping air, / Tall, bare trees to run on beside me, / A heart that is light and free from care. / then let me go!” Further he wishes his spirit to be free as ‘the brook that flows to the river’ and ‘the river that flows to the sea’.
As there is a saying, 'only those who have tasted the fruit can understand its sweetness.' The joy of solo travel is a secret known only to those who have dared to venture forth alone. And once experienced, it is a treasure that remains forever, a reminder of the beauty and wonder that awaits us on the road less taken.
There are moments in life when we all must embrace the solitude of the solitary reaper, harvesting the ripe grains of our experiences, and gathering the wisdom of our journey. And when our time on this earth has come to an end, we will stand before the gates of heaven, alone and unaccompanied. There, we will face the judgment of the divine, our lives laid bare before the all-seeing eyes of Jove.
In that moment, the opinions or company of others will fade into insignificance, and we will be left to confront the truth of our own hearts. Will we be able to stand tall, our souls unshaken, our spirits unbroken? Or will we falter, our weaknesses and fears exposed like autumn leaves stripped bare by the felon winds of time?
John O’Donohue suggests in his poem ‘For the Traveler’: “When you travel, you find yourself / Alone in a different way, / More attentive now / To the self you bring along, / Your more subtle eye watching / You abroad; and how what meets you / Touches that part of the heart / That lies low at home..”

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