A day in Goa

It was a gruelling summer accentuated by a grilling boss in office. The monsoon clouds which would bring respite to Mumbai’s sultry days were fading away to the northern plains thanks to the ever increasing global warming. Like those proverbial Hornbills, he used to yearn for those droplets from the heaven, but to no avail.

Goa beckons. It was a natural remedy for any Mumbaikar, who when exasperated with life’s many lows, to take umbrage in the serenity of Goan beaches. His solitary drive through the lushes alongside the coastal taverns, ceased to be lonely, with the soothing sea wind giving him constant company, whispering about the umpteen adventures it has witnessed in its unending endeavour to gain the affection of sea. The wind was green with envy that despite his overtures, it was the rock who always won the affection of sea.

Calangute beach had this shape of a crescent and it was reminiscent of the Arabian nights in its grandeur. In the night, beach usually got good riddance of unwanted loiters and vendors. What remained were people who really wanted to enjoy the calmness of a sea glossed upon by lunar effervescence.

Savouring on his favourite Bacardi White Rum with a whiff of cola, biting on to the fabled Goan fish curry rice, he felt the heavens subsiding on the earth. Hindu scriptures talk about the heavenly nymphs called as Apsaras. In complete resonance with this aura of paradise a lone figure was walking away from him caressing the waves. It gave a feeling to the onlooker that the waves are competing with each other to brush aside her legs. For a moment he craved to be one of those spumes and crash to death.

As if his brain control cells have suddenly shifted to the genital area, he got up as a knee-jerk reaction and followed the figure.  She had soon reached the limits of the illuminated area and had to turn back. Expectantly, he stopped and played around, making shapes on the beach for the water to come and erase it. The perfumes had declared her presence much before she actually passed by without giving him even a blink. He was wondering what to do next, but then she turned wearing her thick glasses to check out who was the crazy guy playing with the waves at this late hour.

“Goa never sleeps madam, are you here for the first time?” his question took her by surprise. “No, but the sea needs to sleep” she replied in her Ukrainian accent. “Are you from Russia”, his often repeated question miffed her and she walked away saying a stern “No”. “I was singing a lullaby to the sea, madam” his spontaneous retort took her by surprise and she rewarded it by glancing back and gifting a Mona Lisa Smile.  “People usually shed not only the clothes on this beach, but seriousness also. Make merry in Goa” – the local Indian in him gave a piece of advice.

Posing as a local helped him and she asked him about the whereabouts of bikes available for rent. Predictably the next day morning they set out on bikes to the various Goan locations. The southern Colva beach being their evening destination. The rock studded beach was the hanging out place for couples which gave them privacy amidst the rocky slopes.

They settled down on one of those rocks which was away from the crowd and lighted their cigarettes. It was surprising to him that she had never taken alcohol. To keep company he also desisted from the temptation of a beer. The sun was getting immersed in the long horizon seemingly reluctant, unable to hang on to their conversation.

She had visited India on office work, but took a detour to Goa, bowled over by its beauty for the umpteenth time. Goan beaches have the rare combination of clean waters, white sand, warm climate and non-interfering public. The last qualification was intentionally aimed at him and she giggled while saying this.

Having chit chatted well into late evening they decided to call it a day and retire into their respective hotels. The beach was more or less deserted with the couples either having left or busy cosying up amongst the boulders.  She told him about her departure plans early morning. An eerie silence followed. A day’s rendezvous had caused a deep impact in him for her, though she was seemingly nonchalant. It was all over with a handshake and a thank you. Her bike was throwing out more smoke he thought, or were his teary eyes creating that haze.

He went back to the beach, but this time with a bottle of beer. The pristine morning sand had a beautiful poem etched on it and the sea was hesitant to wash it off.

Golden hair paling the glowing sun

Eyes of sapphire or a slice of ocean,

Smile that kill

Stare that make time stand still,

Giggles take the breath away

Curls make a cascade shy,

Curves like a drifting rain

Girl for sure is from Ukraine.


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