There is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it is sent away. – said someone beautiful on Pinterest
And there are really lot of philosophies and thoughts written about the ocean. It gives a different experience to every individual out there.
The beach as seen from the eyes of a tourist is a place you get soaked in water, sun bath, screams and shouts, selfie with pout, craziness, slow walks and what not.
But from the eyes of a Goan, the sea is a mother, a teacher, a friend.
A mother cause it serves the Goans with a livelihood, an earning and food, fish being the staple food to serve the appetite of the Goenkars.
A teacher cause it teaches you a way of living; calm at the shores, gushy and turbulent within. To stay in your defined boundaries, but when the need arises go beyond the boundaries to give the other a taste of their own deeds.
And a friend as it always had been to me who will listen to your heart and wash away your feet, caressing your soul with every waves that hits.
Being a hydrophobic, I didn’t learn swimming and so I don’t know how it feels to play in the middle of the wave in the ocean and play across its turbulent force. What I do know is the calmness and peace that you feel while walking long ways across the beach,the sensuous touch of the waves and washing away, sharp salty smell of the air. Singing a song or rudimentary talks and with every minute or so the wave coming to touch as a kind of response the sea gives you.
This blog post is about my early morning solo walk along the Calangute beach, which actually happened around 2 months back. I was to write there and then but it got delayed for a quite a while.
Being a believer of magic and intentional co-incidences that happen in life, I believe that this delay was on purpose.
In the meantime, I read a book called “Feasts, Feni and FireCrackers” By Mel D’Souza.
In this book he describes his life as a village school boy in Portuguese Goa. He speaks about his life in Saligao, the village life, the traditions, folklore, customs, school life and summer vacation times. And here he has various mentions of Calangute. Calangute being my maternal home town, I started recollecting my childhood days spend there.
Back in those days, the only thing that we looked forward to in summer vacation was my mama’s place in Naik Vaddo, Calangute, where we all cousins used to gather and have bunches of fun time.
Along with other past times, going to the beach in the eve was one of our favorites. Though before leaving we used to get a couple of instructions: to be careful of the water, take care of each other, not to talk to the foreigners there and to be back home before it gets dark.
The only thing that we didn’t abide by was the early coming home.
We used to start from house by 3.30PM. It used to be a 30 mins walk through the “Pariyath” the open ground then, where we used to play cricket, football or fly kites cause of the open sky and strong wind.
Now the “Pariyath” is a football ground, well-built where actual football matches are played and not like our own-defined-cheating football matches between cousins and the neighbors.
After the “Pariyath”, there were the narrow lanes that used to be go in between the old small houses. The old ladies from the house along used to hellow me saying “Rupa’che” (My Mum’s name) “chali” (daughter). Though I hardly knew them but it is was nice feeling to being cared by those old ladies and their pat on the back.
Walking along, the shades of the coconut trees along used to save us from the sun.
The lanes then used to open up to the beautiful beach, which used to stir up the zeal in our hearts.
The time at the beach was either spent playing with the waves, collecting shellfish “Tisryo” if it happened to come near the shore. Or the best to run behind the tiny “Kulli” (crab) which will speed up and disappear in the tiny burrows in the sand. Or it used to be sometimes a long walk till Candolim beach.
One more thing was fun was to dig a hole quickly, bury your feet and as soon as the wave comes, watch the sand getting all washed away.
Late in the evening then we used to sit on the shore or any nearby “vhodde” (small boat) and watch the sky change its color with every minute the sun goes down.
Those minutes are one of the best memories of my childhood. We had simple games and priceless pleasures. Life was uncomplicated. Simple and un-sophisticated plays used to give immense pleasures to our innocent hearts.
It was my childhood then. But even now when we have many platforms to socialize with people, various hangout places to chill, click pictures, check-in and upload pics on Instagram, Facebook; having a solitude time at the beach early morning or late evenings has its incomparable worth.
Being an ambivert (70% introvert 30% extrovert) I love to have my own time every now and then. And the Arabian sea of Goa has been a part of my soul ever since my childhood. Walking along the waves, admiring the calmness of the morning time sea, coldness of the salt water, the silence, with only waves roaring in between.
7AM in the morning I reached the Calangute beach with my new Canon EOS 700d, planning to get some uncrowded shots at the sea. But after clicking a few, I closed my cam, put it in the bag and just decided to get soaked in the moment in there, speak my heart out to the mighty sea in front of me. Ask questions, speak about the issues which we grip on for months, which are complicated and difficult; and then they seem so tiny and silly in front of the sea. It feels like we are living in a shell while the planet is such a huge place and the ocean is so deep, and it will be stupid to be trapped in our own shell with all the silly problems.
Oh! By the way I think I probably lost the flow! I would rather say I got high on the sea as the high tide, while I actually wanted to go writing about the low tide times of the sea and the pretty moments. But I still hope you had a good time reading this, bit philosophy bit of good olden days in Goa. Till the next article, Ciao. Happy Reading and Happy Living.