Goa

The mind awakens before the eyes open.

The last dream successfully merges into reality, as they always manage to, and you wake up in a small room.

There’s a fan whirring manfully up there, and bhaisaab is asleep, his back turned towards you, snoring away loudly. You stretch, you scratch. You try to sleep a little more, but you’re done. Ah well.

You get up, check the time. It’s eleven in the morning. Hmmm. A leisurely crap, a glance at self in the mirror. There’s a stubble there, but that does not mean it’s time to shave. A cursory session with toothpaste and toothbrush, and you’re outta there.

Bhaisaab is up and sitting on the edge of the bed. Palms facing downward on the bed, neck hung low, shoulders bunched up. Classic hangover signs, you think – and you say so.

Bhaisaab grunts. Gets ready himself. And when he steps out of the bathroom, he looks a lot better. Spare change of clothes each, swimwear in bag, and out you go.

The sun hits you first, making you squint. The wind hits you next, the salty, tangy sea breeze. You plod your way towards the beach. The path slowly gives way to sand. It makes walking difficult. Your feet sink in the sand, and the white and blue chappals throw up a fine spray of sand behind.

The first trickle of sweat makes itself felt on the nape of your neck.

And then you spot the sea in the distance. Wide and bluish and majestic. Waves break in the far distance, and once again closer to the shore. Palms sway in the wind, and people have fun on the beach. Some cricket, some football, some swimming. You pause, take a deep breath, smile.

On then, through the little lanes in between the shacks, until you’re on the beach. Without pause, you make your way into the shack. It’s early, by Goan standards, and there’s not too many people inside. You sink into your by-now regular chairs, and look out at the sea once more. Wiggle your way in comfortably, and sink your feet into the cold sand. Until your toes can’t be seen. You relax.

And then, unbidden, because they know you by now, they get you two pints of beer. Kings.

And you clink the bottles, murmur “Cheers, bro.” and take a sip.

And with your eyes closed, you can hear the sea, hear the wind, hear the people and taste the beer.

Goa