There is something about the Punjabi farmer and land. He seemingly never has enough of it. Augmenting holdings is coded in his DNA, as are enterprise and assiduousness. It is no surprise, therefore, that he has not allowed mere geography to come in his way of acquiring more.
It was with some trepidation I accepted an invite to experience a newly-minted wellness resort in Vishakhapatnam. The hour it took to get from the airport to Rushikonda where it is located was probably the longest, my mind playing over and over again an earlier encounter, elsewhere. Though many moons ago, it had left me a tad disenchanted with the space. Partly, I gather, from not knowing all it entailed, partly from a definite lack of finesse (not to be confused with luxury) of approach. Privacy, I recalled, was another casualty. Most vivid of memories was the discomfort persistent hunger pangs invited. Yet here I was, ushering myself into the yawning vestibule at BayPark for another spell of naturopathy. Some of us just never learn.