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.
