Monday 23 October 2017

Life On The Coast



The coast is a difficult place to live once you seemingly settle in. After the euphoria of an everlasting summer tides by, the weariness of a bright, relentless sun sets in. Being a mountain person, I begin to wonder if there will be any respite from the constant state of sweatiness or the almost burnt chocolate tan on my skin. And, I welcome the monsoon’s pouring rains with open arms. Because, in this part of the country, the clouds are our respite from the burning sun.

And just like that, without batting an eyelid, my mind opens itself to the wonders of a coastal life. Each morning, walking up the sloping laterite pathways at the work place, I get a peep into the horizon as I begin the climb to the villas, with the sun burning down.

I don’t seem to mind the sun so much now. My skin has settled into a deep dark brown, making me look like the local girls—chocolate brown skin and curly black hair. It’s funny how the coast has also made me grow my hair to lengths I always deemed cumbersome. 

As I walk up to see my guests, I breathe in the scents of the elephant ears, the picas, the palm trees and the spider lilies. An occasional sneeze on account of the red grass pollen makes me look at their tufts accusingly. And as I walk past the sea-facing villa, I marvel at the shades of blue the sea throws up. Blue, indeed, is the warmest colour. 

Just as I found myself peering into the quiet remarkability of the Himalayan snow peaks, I now catch myself sighing, gazing into the currents of the Arabian sea, wondering what secrets it holds in its rumbles and crashing waves. Mornings bring waves that dance lightly, the surf crowning them seems merry. And the sea tends to nap in the afternoons—when us human take on it, parasailing because the beast sleeps. By evening, the Arabian sea shows youthful excitement and invites a strong breeze to cool the effects of a day-long burning sun. 

As I dive into a pool, the water just right—warm from the sun, cooling from the sea breeze, I find myself looking longingly toward the sea. I want to dive deep and discover its secrets. I want to know what it says to me. I want to understand the universe it creates—in its coral, its fish, its undergrowth, its strength and in its resilient force. In my humility, I also fear it. I fear being lost in the sea’s eternal world.

Then again, I marvel at human grit; at the ships I see as a blip on the horizon. I am awed by their courage nearly as much as I am wide-eyed at the sea’s personality. To me, the sea is a giant—physical and intellectual. It knows all and reveals the tiniest parts of itself to those who will only listen.
Much like my loved mountains—that allowed me to breathe in their crisp air and made me shiver during their stormy nights. 

Each day, the sea lets on a word, a small phrase to me. And I find myself hoping that one day, as I walk along the beach, my mind shall hold hands with the sea, in a gesture of understanding.