So, what’s next? Asked the person sitting next to me to his friend on the flight from Bangalore to Goa. And the friend went about saying something I didn’t understand or care to understand. But the phrase stayed with me. The flight to Goa was harmless, even though the Indigo shuddered a few times to remind us that we’re displaced in thin air with no head or arm or leg support if things were to give way. Since it was a midnight flight, I wanted to snooze a little bit but the airhostess woke me asking if I needed something to eat. I politely said I didn’t but then she surprised me by saying I had pressed the buzzer which I hadn’t. I wanted to explain but considering the flight duration which was only about an hour and since I had another hour to get to my resort by road upon reaching Goa, I just apologized for a mistake I hadn’t committed. Sometimes it’s easier that way you know; just to say sorry and move on. It gives you a defense without an offense.

Upon reaching Goa, I came to know that the civilization here is yet to catch up with Uber. So, imagine where Quick Ride would be positioned but nevertheless. Now don’t get me wrong, I love Goa, every inch and bit of it and I would live here 24 hours, 365 and a quarter days in a year if I had a choice but not having Uber meant that I had to shell three times the price to get to my location. As the cab driver, Arif was his name, so as Arif began to speed away, I saw a board of the BITS Goa campus to my left and then came its majestic entrance. Memories came flooding by; I was supposed to meet someone here I recalled but then they were just memories. They now come and go like reflections.

Arif was quiet throughout the journey and I didn’t disturb him either. The route was well lit, the roads were winding but in excellent condition and I was observing. I have begun to observe now, things that move and also things that don’t. I introspect what they are trying to say if they resonate with my state at the time. I caught sight of a drunk man sitting by the wayside of the road, lost but happy in his state; he had no awareness; empty to the core. Arif slowed down just to ensure the man’s safety, maintained sufficient distance between the car and the man and moved on. I turned and looked at the man until he began to fade away. Now that I try to recall his face, I cannot; funny why that happens. Was it because of my nonchalance and distraction (this sentence is borrowed from someone I cared to know; so it’s a credit to her for penning it)? Probably, as I don’t see any other reason why I wouldn’t remember a drunk carefree man sitting by the wayside of a highway waiting for a rash driver to run him over. I know it’s a harsh and ruthless statement but not everyone is Arif and there are more drunk drivers than there’re drunk men sitting by the wayside of a highway.

I saw swaying trees, blustering rains, houses that were brightly lit at 2:30AM in the morning with no sight of people anywhere and then there were houses that had absolutely no lights whatsoever yet had life to them. Contrasts, is what came to mind. Darkness is not the opposite but the absence of light, I read this in an autobiography. Some like their lights to be switched on at all times while others like their darkness; some like to share their emptiness that thaws within, while others rejoice in their emptiness. When Arif broke my introspection by asking me if the resort he was about to enter was the one I was scheduled to spend the next four days in, I thought to myself if I really cared. But then he needed an answer; a correct one. So, I looked around and confirmed. While I was bidding goodbye to Arif, he asked when I would be returning to Bangalore and if I would choose him for a ride again. Assumptions; he assumed I was a tourist. I was happy to accept his proposition and took down his number.

When I entered the resort, rains began to lash incessantly again. As the concierge began to introspect my being and validate my identity, I looked around. I had been to the adjacent property before and that property was a bit more refined even though the accommodation they offered were of similar scale. But in the scheme of things, it didn’t matter. I was tired and hungry and all I wanted was to get into my room, eat and sleep. But the card swiping machine had other ideas. It took a while for the connection to go through and while I waited, it only intensified my hunger. How I wished I had eaten something at home or at the departure terminal of the airport. But wait and weight, I have issues with both and I plan to solve them on this trip. The latter is easy to solve because I can build the discipline around it but the former is a tad too difficult. I could explain but never mind the explanation.

I woke up early the next day despite sleeping only at 3:00AM. Probably it was the hunger pangs that couldn’t keep up with my discipline anymore and I quickly satiated them. The innkeeper was kind enough to cook a delicious three course breakfast and I gorged on it. She was in fact amused at the pace with which I ate and realized that I must’ve been hungry. She asked me the things I’d like to eat and I told her that I could eat anything as long as the food was vegetarian. Bemused with my explanation, she started making a mental note of what she could prepare. I realized then that it may have been easier had I given her a menu or a few things of my choice but that would take away her ingenuity and my exploration. Saying something is easier than actually following through and I wanted to test myself if I could really eat anything vegetarian. I think I can because burnt toast is not a deal breaker to me.

Ocean, a magnificent expanse that binds you, yet sets you free. That’s where I ventured in the evening. The water was tempting but it was the season of the high tides and I was on my own and the risk was not worth taking. So, I walked, gently, admiring everything that came my way. There were tourists, hawkers, fishermen, sea shells, mollusks, creeks and fresh water streams merging into the ocean, all lending perspective to a being in search of something yet nothing. I remembered the man who taught me to swim in the ocean, a man who would cut through the currents like he was their master yet retain the humility to be a disciple. I remembered that man. I may not have his grace but I have his skill; I realized. The cloudy sky started getting murkier and murkier but that didn’t change the pace of my walk. I continued to observe the mountains nearby, the clouds hiding the sun and the heart beats of the ocean to arrive at my own silence. That was it. Then it rained heavily and I felt like running. I dashed a 200 meter sprint that Usain Bolt would be proud of and reached my villa completely soaked in fresh water. Food arrived soon and I called it a night after relinquishing the need of the body.

I had forgotten what it felt like to wake up at ten in the morning. So, I woke up at ten in the morning. Though I overslept, the change was refreshing. I had nothing to do, so I did nothing; at least for a while. Then, I began to plan my trip to Turkey. I guess planning a trip is more exciting than actually travelling. So, I did that and organized everything that needed to be done. Meanwhile, the innkeeper sent someone to deliver the breakfast. She prepared a special Maharashtrian dish and it was so delicious that it would have made my mom jealous. I was running low on cash and wondered when digital payments would reach the masses. But I didn’t mind the two kilometer walk to the ATM. It was an experience of observation and familiarization but familiarity is a funny word; the minute you think you’re familiar with something, things change. So, I stuck to my purpose, asked a few people directions, watched two ladies plan their paddy plantation, got chased by two dogs and then finally found the elusive ATM. People are friendly in this part of the country; they’ve settled in from various states but they jell well with the locals and manage to keep the state the way locals want it to be. That’s a tremendous achievement for a country such as India.      

Back home, now I’m calling this place home, nevertheless, back in the confines of my borrowed accommodation, I continued with my evening routine. I made myself some coffee, sat in the balcony and stared at the wilderness. Some workers were cleaning the front yard; a lady, perhaps a foreigner, was lapping backstroke after backstroke in the pool; two dogs were comfortably perched in chairs in the adjacent villa and wild flowers were in full bloom in the garden that surrounded the villa. I observed them as I wanted to until food arrived. Chinese was the menu and the innkeeper surprised me with her versatility. Now I seriously considered asking the innkeeper to travel back to Bangalore so she could give mother a rest. But that would invite other troubles that are neither worth taking nor explaining.

The last day in Goa was all about rain. The rain gods relented for a few hours in the morning to allow me to bid goodbye to the beach but they didn’t allow me to venture out for a margarita in the evening. So, that’s pending until the next time. Nevertheless, all my bags are packed and I’m ready to go, the taxi’s waiting, he’s blowing his horn, I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again.       

Sikkim is the new destination. That’s next.