I rode till Anjuna beach recently. It was a stressful ride. The route was pretty, going through narrow, winding lanes flanked by coconut and banana trees. But the route was also getting choked by massive four wheelers (why would you take a big vehicle through narrow roads anyway!). I on my tiny moped had a hard time navigating. My machine refused to stay on the left. No one listens to me. Not Sufi, not Fascino. Sigh.
We reached Curlies, one of the oldest shacks in Anjuna. It is an institution, a landmark everyone fond of Goa knows of. It is a fancy, massive shack built barely 20 metres away from the Arabian Sea. You can’t hear your own voice because all that airspace is absorbed by their version of trance music. It is supposed to be a great experience to chug on beer sitting by a table facing the deep blue, listening to electronic dance music. Honestly, I’d rather hear the waves of the sea.
We walked out of Curlies as soon as we entered and went towards a set of rockpools—rocky pools by the sea. Beautiful deep red, black and sand-coloured rocks with white corals, green algae, big black crabs dancing about, tiny anemones shells. And the pools—the cool, clear rippling water had scores of stones and shells and little creatures swimming. We saw a lone mangrove tree, surrounded by spiky upright roots.
We sat by the rocks to watch the big red dot in the sky submerge into the sea. Two kingfishers, with velvet blue wings, orange bellies and long beaks were playing with each other on the rocks in front of us. Nature is routine. The sun comes up, and goes down, creating the cycle of time. Nature is wondrous.
It was hard to imagine that just a minute ago we were surrounded by a cacophony of humans. There are times I wish for us to melt away, just so that it can be.
And then I’m glad to be alive to witness this. .