Sarci-Sense: The Realities Of The Great Holiday Showdown

“Okay, we really need to decide where we’re going for our next holiday,” she said one evening, scrolling through dreamy photos of misty hill stations on her phone.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Do we have to start now? It’s only October, and we’re still recovering from the Diwali feast. Why is it that before we’ve even finished one holiday, we’re already planning the next one?”

She smiled knowingly. “Because every year we leave it to the last minute and end up either overpaying or stuck in some crowded hotel with more mosquitoes than guests. And guess who does all the research?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ah yes, the heavy-lifting travel planner of the house.”

“Exactly,” she nodded, tapping away. “Someone’s got to find us a place that’s worth it.”

This annual back-and-forth was less about the destination and more about their sweet little ritual — a negotiation stretched over weeks and sometimes months.

She was the dreamer: misty hills, pine forests, quiet walks, and evenings that felt like a Yash Chopra movie set—romantic and magical, where her ‘Rahul’ would pause just long enough to stare into her eyes before breaking into song.

He was the realist: a beach with a balcony, a comfy lounge chair, a cool drink in hand, and absolutely no plans except doing nothing at all.

“No snow, no rain, please,” she’d remind him. “This isn’t a monsoon romance.”

He’d laugh. “So basically, you want your Yash Chopra magic, but with perfect weather and a side of sunshine? Sounds like a blockbuster with a tiny budget.”

They’d tease and trade dreams — her painting scenes of serene lakes and cozy fireside dinners; him imagining hammock naps and lazy swims.

Eventually, they’d settle somewhere in the middle—a hill station with a pool, good food, and, crucially, WiFi strong enough for him to follow his cricket updates.

Back home, syncing their own rhythms was another adventure.

He woke early, stretching like a cat; she preferred a slow start, sipping tea while the world woke up. At night, his snoring could rival a passing train, and his ‘starfish’ sleep style claimed half the bed. She curled up like a squirrel, navigating the territory carefully.

Bathroom trips were scheduled like covert missions, avoiding the infamous ‘midnight flush’ that echoed through the house and jolted them awake.

TV time was its own peace treaty.

“We’ll watch the new Amazon Prime thriller,” she suggested, setting up her laptop.

“Great, I’ll watch mine on the other side of the room,” he smiled. “We can compare notes later.”

“Together but apart,” she laughed. “Our modern-day honeymoon.”

Then came the holiday food story.

After a couple of days indulging in fine dining, sampling dishes with names they couldn’t pronounce, they both started craving what truly felt like home: simple khichdi.

So, they gently taught the chef how to make khichdi with a side of yoghurt. At the hotel, the only yoghurt on hand was flavoured—mango, of all things.

When the steaming plate arrived, imperfect but full of comfort, they shared a knowing smile.

“Even after converting from dollars, worth every rupee of this room service bill,” she said softly.

“Comfort food with a mango twist,” he chuckled.

And of course, there was the photos.

Everywhere, every time of day—sunrise by the lake, lunch on the balcony, sunset near the pool, and even a midnight selfie by the minibar.

She wanted to capture all the moments, “For memories,” she said.

He wanted to capture fewer moments but with fewer chins.

Their selfie sessions became a running joke.

“Hold it a little to the left. No, not the other left! Your chin looks like it’s leading the photo.”

“Stop critiquing my ‘Rahul’ smile! I’m trying to channel Shah Rukh here.”

“More like Shah Shrunk.”

Eventually, the pictures filled their phones, albums, and even got printed for the living room wall.

Their holidays weren’t about flawless destinations or scripted romance.

They were about negotiating dreams, balancing desires, and finding joy in little moments — the kind that make even the quirkiest ‘Rahul’ moments feel like magic.

Because, after all, the best vacations are the ones where you laugh over who forgot the sunscreen, share the last bite of dessert, and sometimes, just sometimes, steal a quiet moment together under a sky that’s just right.

Click to read other stories from the Sarci-Sense series