Stranded, Yet Deeply Cared For

Thailand showed hospitality at its finest — even in the midst of national upheaval, stranded tourists were met not with chaos, but with food, shelter and quiet dignity.

In the first part of this account, I shared how a routine Thailand tour in November 2006 turned into a crisis when political unrest shut down Bangkok’s airports, leaving my group of 26 stranded far from home. Just when anxiety was mounting, the Thailand Tourism Office arranged hotel stays and meals for stranded tourists.

That brought immediate relief — but one painful uncertainty remained: when would we be able to return to India?

We returned to Pattaya carrying that official letter, almost like a lifeline. When we presented it at a 4-star hotel, we were received with warmth and quiet efficiency. True to the assurance given by the tourism office, every member of our group was allotted a separate room. There was no crowding, no compromise, no discomfort. Breakfast and meals were included every day.

That evening, for the first time since the airports had shut down, I slept a little easier.

A major burden had lifted—my group was safe, comfortable, and cared for. Yet one question lingered in the background like an unfinished sentence: When would we go home?

No one had an answer. There was no official timeline, no clarity on when the airports would reopen. Pattaya did have a small airport, but it could not accommodate large international aircraft. We were secure—but suspended in a state of uncertainty.

During those days, I found myself reflecting deeply. Often, travellers return from foreign trips comparing and criticising our own country. But in that moment, I realised something important. If such a situation had occurred in India, we have multiple international airports that could serve as alternatives in emergencies. Every nation has its strengths. Sometimes, it takes a crisis to remind us to value our own.

It was 24th November 2006.

While accommodation and food were no longer concerns, emotional tension lingered. Our families back home were anxious. Phone calls became emotional check-ins rather than casual conversations. We reassured them repeatedly—“We are safe, don’t worry”—even when uncertainty quietly lived within us.

Still, somewhere inside me, there was a firm belief.

Thailand celebrates the king's birthday on 6th December as a day of national pride and unity. I felt strongly that the country would restore normalcy before that day. It wasn’t based on any official information—it was simply faith.

And sometimes, faith is enough.

On 3rd December, the long-awaited news arrived—the airport had reopened. The relief that swept through our group is difficult to describe. We secured confirmed tickets for 6th December. And on that day, exactly as I had hoped, we finally flew back home.

Those fourteen days were unusual in their own way. We were safe. We were well cared for. We even found moments of laughter and calm. Yet beneath it all was a quiet ache—the longing for home, for familiarity, for certainty.

Looking back, one thing stands out with clarity and respect.

Despite the massive chaos and nearly seven lakh tourists stranded across Thailand, there was no exploitation. No artificial shortages. No sudden price hikes. Taxi drivers did not overcharge. Restaurants did not inflate prices. In fact, many places offered free water and snacks to tourists. Ordinary Thai citizens extended help with genuine kindness.

There was discipline. There was dignity. There was responsibility.

Later, we learned that nearly 700,000 tourists had been stranded during that period—yet the system did not collapse into greed or panic. That lesson remains etched in my heart.

Around the same time, India was going through the tragic 26/11 terrorist attacks in Mumbai. Naturally, the Indian media focused on that heartbreaking event. The crisis in Thailand received little attention back home. But for us—for that group of 26 travellers—those fourteen days became a memory that refuses to fade.

Even today, whenever someone from that group calls me, the conversation almost always begins the same way:

“Do you remember those 14 days in Thailand…?”

Tourism has gifted me countless experiences—joyful, challenging, and unpredictable. Some have tested my patience. Some have strengthened my faith. Another deeply intense chapter of my life was during the Kargil War, when I spent three months in Kashmir. Those months carried stories of courage, fear, resilience, and humanity—I will share them someday.

Because travel is never just about destinations. It is about people. It is about responsibility. It is about the unexpected lessons life places in your path.

As beautifully said:

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.”

(The writer is a travel professional with an experience of more than 25 years. Views personal.)