MS Shanker
Family trips are supposed to create memories. Ours became a saga.
Eight of us — my family and my sister’s — landed in Sri Lanka last Sunday, eager to walk the Ramayana trail, to stand where Sita once stayed captive, to trek the mythical caves of Ravana, and to soak in the turquoise calm of the island’s beaches. My two daughters and their cousins had built up their excitement around trekking, caves, waterfalls, beaches — all the adventure they believed would give them a break from their demanding work schedules.
But nature had prepared a different script.
Almost as soon as we arrived, Sri Lanka was struck by one of the worst cyclonic spells in recent years. What began as a weather alert quickly turned into a full-blown national paralysis. Roads disappeared under water, power lines collapsed, tourism shut down overnight, and the island — known for its warmth and charm — slipped into emergency mode.
We had come seeking mythology; we instead walked into a natural disaster.
The cyclone did not merely disturb itineraries. It disrupted life itself. Roads were waterlogged, hotels struggled to keep basic services running, and beaches — usually the heartbeat of Sri Lanka — became danger zones: barricaded, deserted, unrecognizable.
Yet we ventured out to our first destination, Trincomalee. Despite the relentless rain, we managed to spend two nights there and visit Sankaradevi, one of the 18 Shakti Peethams, and believed to be the first. The triumph was short-lived. At our next stop, Nuwara Eliya, we pushed through heavy downpour to reach Sita Vatika. But soon after, news came that roads might be cut off. We were forced to shorten our four-night stay to two. The homestay insisted on charging for an additional night, adding to our frustration. With that, the long-awaited trek to the Ravana caves was lost.
Somehow, manoeuvring through landslides and blocked roads, we made our way to Bentota on the island’s western coast. This region seemed slightly better, and we managed a boat ride in a river and a visit to the botanical gardens en route. Also visited ancient Budha temple. But everywhere we went, the cyclone’s scars were unmistakable. For tourists, it was a major inconvenience. For Sri Lankans, it was survival — and for some, an opportunity to exploit distressed travellers.
In the midst of all this stood the eight of us — umbrellas flipping in the wind, children grumbling, elders worrying, and Google Maps giving up. Our itinerary had become a piece of paper with no meaning.
One Achievement: We Reached Sita Vatika
Reaching the sacred site felt like an accomplishment in itself. We crossed flooded stretches, navigated narrow bends, waited out unpredictable bursts of rain, and finally stood in the quiet garden believed to be Sita’s sanctuary during her captivity.
It felt surreal. Even the cyclone seemed to pause.
There was no rush, no crowd, no noise — just the calm of a place steeped in legend. Standing there, one could feel the weight of history. For a moment, all frustration melted away.
But the Disappointments Were Real
The rest of the plan was a washout — literally. The children’s most anticipated adventure, trekking inside the iconic Ravana caves, was cancelled as authorities sealed the area due to landslide risks. Their disappointment was unmistakable.
Water activities? Cancelled everywhere.
Beaches were cordoned off, jet skis and boats lay idle, and the ocean raged as if the cyclone had wrung every bit of fury out of it. We stood on dry land with umbrellas and raincoats, staring at the beauty we came for — now completely out of reach.
India Stepped Up
Amid the destruction, one reassuring sight was India’s swift response. The Indian government mobilized naval ships and Air Force aircraft carrying relief supplies — medicines, food packets, emergency materials. It was both a humanitarian gesture and a reflection of deep India–Sri Lanka ties. In that moment, it reminded us how crises reveal the strength of partnerships.
And Then Came the Final Jolt: Flight Cancelled
Just when we thought things could not get more complicated, our Indigo flight to Hyderabad on Saturday was abruptly cancelled. The airport was overwhelmed with weather-related disruptions. For a moment, it felt like we might be stuck indefinitely. Tension ran high across our group.
But here too, a sliver of relief emerged. Indigo assured us they would route us via Chennai the next day. Not ideal — but after living through a cyclone, it felt like a lifeline.
The Experience We Didn’t Want, but Won’t Forget
This was not the Sri Lanka we had come to see. It wasn’t the Ramayana pilgrimage the elders imagined, nor the vacation we had meticulously planned.
But it taught us something deeper.
Travel isn’t always about ticking boxes. Sometimes, it is about testing your patience, your flexibility, and your ability to find meaning when plans collapse around you. In the end, our pilgrimage became a test of grit — one we never signed up for, but one we will remember for years.
