Spilling the beans of Goa 09...

Prologue:

“Goa…you ultimate seductress…you spare no one…
All souls find the peace that they seek in your arms…
Your caressing touch has soothed many a wounds….
Your smell attracts the festivities of life…
Making love to you is heaven…
You are an illusion…an oasis…a living dream!”

To write an ode to Goa is always difficult because every time there is a different personality of hers that you experience. It is also difficult because there are aspects of Goa that you feel physically and there are the other ones that touch your soul and the aspects that touch your soul are the ones that you crave for the rest of your life and are not easily expressed in words. It is better to express my voluble mind in words when the feel of the sand is still lingering. And I hope that I get an opportunity to write such beautiful memoirs soon…

Chapter 1: The Awesome Threesome…

Retrospectively, the travel in the 2320 hrs Konkan- Kanya from Dadar to Thivim was not a bad decision. The train journey was the beginning of a relationship called friendship between three good acquaintances, Dimple, Lydia and Ronak. The night started off slow but the stories veering of to anything from “honeymoon destinations” to “legalizing prostitution and drugs” made the conversation interesting for the people involved and scandalous and irritating for the fellow passengers. Stepping down at Thivim at noon, got the excitement up and running, and the remaining forty minutes to Baga in the hot, humid and fresh air seemed enjoyable. Photographs are clicked; Dimple, Lydia and Ronak realize that they are a photogenic trio and they make a good threesome (no pun intended...or well I could use the pun :) ) in all their photographs.
Ancora Resort is located and so is the wonderful person called Uma/Surya/Rama/Kanta- Kant. After tolerating Mr. Whatever-Kant for a while we go to our rooms and later head straight for brunch at Lime Light. Edwin does a great job of serving us some great cocktails (weren’t we pleased that it was “Happy Hours”) and delicious food…papad prawns, pork vindaloo and prawn curry... It must be really strange, but just with the first introduction to alcohol in Goa; the world is already spinning and lazy. We almost cancel off our plans of going to Panjim for a “lecture on clinical research”; but we realized that Lydia only pretends to be a devil; she has a conscience which cannot be silenced. She had promised her close friend, Jovi, and she will stick to it no matter what.
The decision making part was the easier part in the process of getting to Panjim as the more tedious part was the actual getting there ( damn only if I knew how to ride a bike!). Necessity is supposed to be the mother of invention; however the necessity of a cab or an auto rickshaw did not invent any smart thoughts in our brains. On the contrary it were the dumb gray cells that started to work and this led to a long walk in the humid afternoon before we got a transport for ourselves. The lecture, surprisingly, turned out to be quite a success story and we deserve a pat on our backs for that, what say Lydia?
The remainder of the evening is spent in the fun company of Jovi and Merci (I hope I got the name right!) at Hawai Beach Shack. The huge dampener for the evening was the humidity and we could all have done a lot better without it. Drinks, food and some catching up later we head back to Ancora Resort into the arms of Mr. Whatever Kant. A walk on the beach and loads of talking takes place before we go and stock on the liquor for the next day. Hunger strikes us; but hey hey hey…do not worry when there is 24 hour SUBWAY nearby. A salad and a mini-sub fill us up and we decide to greet Lydia’s friend Vijay. The humorous fact about the meeting with Vijay was that none of us understood what Vijay looks like as it was too dark to notice anything within the next three feet. After the short rendezvous with Vijay, we walk back to our room and continue the process of knowing each other. I must say that Dimple and Lydia are one of the most generous, the most beautiful, the warmest and the most huggable people I recently know of. Love you, guys!

Chapter 2: The Goa Groupies…

With a nice sleep and a supposedly exciting prank on our minds, we head to Sunset Cottage to enjoy our first decent breakfast in Goa. Chocolate pancakes, ham omelet and scrambled eggs give us enough time to chalk out our “dirty trick” to be played on Rahul, Salomi and Yash. A short walk on the beach takes our urge to dive in the sea to its peak; but we suppress it as it was time for the other groupies to join in. As fate and Rahul’s pragmatic mind would have it, the evil prank lost all its fizzle and what were left behind were tiny bubbles of frustration and sounds of laughter. We are filled by the horrific details of the train journey that the late comers had; can’t blame them if they have to see a shrink to cure their claustrophobia!
The Goa Groupies- Dimple, Lydia, Rahul, Ronak, Salomi and Yash, start their Goa adventure by welcoming the shots of tequila in their systems and it is understood that it is only fun times ahead. The sea beckons us again after lunch (butter chicken, roti and paneer something at Lime Light...Edwin was surely happy to find us there again!) and now there is no stopping back. The feel of the waves on the body is therapeutic and staring at the vast sea along with the cloudless blue sky is pure relaxation. The parasailing adventure sees Ronak and Salomi (“baby”) and Rahul and Yash pair up to enjoy one of the most brilliant views of Baga. (“…let us fly into the world of our dreams, just the way we are, forever and forever…” an afterthought)
A refreshing bath and a second ( and a third one for Yash and me) round of tequila later we are all stumbling and giggling on our way to Brittos for dinner ( chicken pasta, grilled chicken, paneer something and something more vegetarian…I am sorry that I do not recollect any of the vegetarian dishes ordered…). Rahul suddenly realizes that it is high time that he got high and thus more alcohol is procured to enjoy. It was quite hilarious and some what embarrassing to first ask for a full bottle of Jack Daniels and to replace it with a quarter of Royal Challenge considering that JD was really expensive. Soon we all go back to our rooms and more alcohol is bought by the “Santa Clause of alcohol” –Rahul. Shots are followed by an exciting session of confessions, exchange of stories and unusual stuff that need not go into print here. Rahul and Salomi decide to hit the bed to give their high state some rest. Lydia and I go out to the beach; I must confess that spending time with her under the moon lit night and having the most honest and a precious heart to heart talk with her has got me to appreciate her presence around even more. I believe that Dimple and Yash were singing the same song of appreciation for each other after their connecting conversation with each other. You never know what Goa can do for you!!
Shortly the five groupies (Salomi decided to stay in the bed) assembled at the beach for a while only to go back in and catch up on their sleep.
The beach, the smells, the sound of the waves, the pouring of the hearts and the magic of the Goan fairy did succeed to bring together six people under the banner of the Goa Groupies! We rock guys!!

Chapter 3: Driving Everywhere but Nowhere…

The morning started with only a couple of hours of sleep and a refreshing morning walk with Rahul. The sun is not hurting, the waves are clean and two guys are trying to find a mermaid in the waters of Baga! The early morning walk on the beach made us realize that the sea does not like dead animals as there were tens of them scattered all over the sand making the stench unbearable at times. The early morning walk comes to an end and the driving in Goa begins. It was very kind of Aashay to have his friend Nishant drop the car at Baga as Yash and I were too bored to make the journey from Baga to Panjim and back. The car is there but the one thing missing was fuel. I meant to say-Fuel for the car as well as for us. But as selfish as man can be, we first rush to Infantaria to have a disappointing breakfast and then the desperate search for petrol begins. Stopping all over at discrete places for petrol, we somehow manage to get to one petrol pump at Mapusa and make the car feel satiated. The return tickets are booked and the heat has every one of us cooked! Eventually the drive to Arambol begins late in the afternoon. The quaint and the bohemian Goan country side make the perfect scene for a pleasurable drive. Watching trees form arches, the chatter of the company and the high of the garam nicotine takes us all the way till Arambol. Coming to Arambol was coming back home. Many things were the way they are since ages, but many things have changed completely. The beach was still pristine and the waters as ever seducing (at times the sea decided to be angry and started slapping us). The lake had lost its charm and there was not enough time to touch base with the other familiar places at Arambol. I felt quite disheartened that we could not stop over at Morjeim…that would have been something to remember! I would also like to mention that Dimple and I had a great “bitching” session on our walk at Arambol. Don’t worry Dimps, no matter what, we are the coolest of the lot!
We all got back to our rooms and every one except the responsible driver of the day (Ronak) did not enjoy the shots of alcohol. After what seemed like a long while, we all started again to move to Curlies. We were all hoping that Curlies would turn out good as “I want to go to a night club” was the primary priority for Salomi (Yash, tu chalega na Tito’s mere saath). But lady luck wasn’t too kind with her and the last song had been played at Curlies a second before we reached there. So what if there is no party at Curlies…we all can eat…and we had one of the best omelet-pavs ever. The others decided that it is time that we should let Ronak have his share of the drinks and we all decided to head back to Baga. Songs were sung or hummed and we all realized that we had Lydia as a good singer amongst us.
Back on the beach (again Salomi preferred to sleep) at Baga, alcohol was gulped down rather too quickly. Rahul gave an astounding performance of “Jackva and Jillva” and had the audiences cry encore for him over and over. Before anyone realized where the time was flying, I had passed out on the cold sand of the beach, Rahul and Lydia were getting cozy and Dimple and Yash were in the waters having a wonderful conversation. After almost an hour, I woke up and I realize that I was freezing cold and I need to get some blood running. As I was trying to get my senses back, I understood that Yash and Dimple had already retired to the room and Rahul was trying to locate the joints that he had buried in the sand (he did manage to find them thirty minutes later…thanks dude!). Meanwhile, I also learn from Rahul that the seeds of an exciting love story, with Lydia and him being the protagonists, have been successfully sown. Good going guys…cheers…and I hope that you find what you seek- happiness! :) :)
It was tiring, it was hot, it was walking down memory lane, it was driving, it was being drunk, it was loads of talking, it was digging, it was waking up to hear some wonderful news and at the end of all, it was a very overwhelming experience….

Chapter 4: The Unusual Ruining…and Goodbyes…

After only an hour of sleep and with the alcohol still playing games with my mind, all I sense is absolute restlessness. This has to be brought under control. So the only thing that could have sorted this mindset was a long solitary walk on the beach. The sound of the Baga waves help to silence the waves of thoughts in my mind. After an hour and half of walking and talking, the catharsis of emotions is calmed down and I head back to the room. Rahul suggests that we have a pre-breakfast joint to “set the mood” for the day. That was a very wrong decision. The next “I do not know how many hours” were ruined for the entire group as I had slipped into a world of my own killing the plans for the day.
The “my world” was a very unusual place. There was no rationale behind my thought processes but each and every thought was worth putting down on paper… (How I wish I had a pen and a paper with me then…). There seemed to be no continuum between space and time. Time for me was rushing but simultaneously time was pausing (…the world around me is spinning that fast that it is making the time stop…). My body temperature was dropping and I thought that I was dead and waiting for my turn to get into heaven and that is why I am seeing my life in flashes. The realization of death was scary as I was contemplating a whole lot of things that I could have done only if I were alive. However even on my supposed death bed, I felt nice and warm from the inside, as I realized that I was being taken care of and being loved by some really beautiful people… (Thank you all for all the hugs, the palm and the sole rubs, the subway sandwich…Rahul for trying to talk some sense in me…)…I felt really protected and happy…not because of the psycho-influencing substance but because of the company that I was in……The psychedelic lights were like complete mental fireworks with a random pattern to them…..the bunch of ideas and stories that I could come up with was astonishing…( I really miss the pen and the paper…)….it was almost similar to an out of body experience with only the realization that I might/might not be dead….memories which have been locked at the back of your mind and the keys forgotten were opening up…inhibitions creeping in…feeling loved…it was happy but not relaxing…will I want to do this again…I do not know….
After the entire “Rocky was on a high” episode, we finally ventured out for the day to Fort Aguada…Yash finally found a rapport with the raging engine of the Santro… We said our goodbyes to the car…the girls decided to do shopping and the sleepy Ronak was more than willing to accompany them for their adventure…
Soon the groupies re-assembled and before even we could formally say goodbye to Goa, we were already on the bus taking us far away from this paradise…
Such were the adventures, the anecdotes, the stories and the emotions of a group of six people, who at the onset felt like a “motley crowd”, but eventually (just like always) had their souls amalgamated into one to enjoy the happiness that only Goa can offer….

Epilogue:

The stories of Goa cannot have a conclusion to them. People always leave a part of themselves behind in Goa, only to take a part of her back with them. The happiness that a person experiences in Goa cannot be defined, but it can be doubled every time it is shared.
Freedom and peace get new perspectives…hope is reinforced …the sun, the moon never look the same again…
I would like to end this narrative on few of the various notes of the mixed emotions that we sung together in Goa from 28 October 2009 till forever…a note of freedom, a note of friendship, a note of love, a note of excitement, a note of craziness and a note of hope…..

Good Evening...!

As Mother plans to call us back to tuck us in our beds,
We take some time to bid farewell for the day to our peers,
So much play and laughter with our friends has made us long and tired!

The bobbing ripples give us a different hue,
Mischief that we do, has the vibrant fish looking out for cover,
Our friendship shines across just like our laughter!

Taking us to meet the never met before characters are our pebbly associates,
Intermingling with them has helped to unearth new routes,
The new paths have brought a radiant smile on the face of the mount of gravel!

The breeze has made us allies with the leaves and the blossoms,
The company of their colors is enough to make the entire day well spent,
The emanating fresh smells and their dance in the wind are only divine!

The soul mates of the flowers are also our new companions, the butterflies,
Their goodbyes to the petals is one of the most cheerful events of the day,
These happy winged friends are no less than the fairies of the bedtime stories!

As we make our journey back, we come across this human, and we ask:
“What is it that makes you smile so peacefully?”
“My dear sun rays, the content of listening about your adventures makes me smile!”

Apathy...

26 February 2009 ( There is no specific reason for the delayed publishing of this blog....)
I am breathing, I can feel my pulses, I can experience the rush of thoughts circulating in my brain, I can see the varied colors of life revolving around me, and I can see the beauty of nature around me…but despite all these expressions of life there is one thing that troubles me the most is that I am unable to imbibe the joie de vivre from the outside to the inside. Everything and anything has stopped to influence me. Watching a movie on the slums of Mumbai or enjoying the breeze on the mountain during the evening hours or typing these thoughts or writing a report on my monitoring visit-all seem the same to me. These thoughts are leading me to the conclusion which starts of on a thought process of its own. The concluding thought process, which is an amalgamation of the following questions –
Whether I have stopped listening to my heart? Whether I have stopped looking at things differently? Whether I have stopped appreciating the ordinary miracles around me? Do people not matter to me anymore? Am I happy? What do I need to do to resurrect my soul? Is it because of my stressful work schedules that I am unable to concentrate on the real me? Will I ever be able to regain the touch with the unreal world? Why do all the positive thoughts about life from the past and the future seem irrelevant? Will I have to wait for eternity to find a “muse” that will keep me going for the rest of my life? Why do the dreams that were so accurately visualized in concrete seem hazy now? Why does even reading a book on finding the true meaning of life seem all Latin? Why does macabre and merry seem synonymous? Why do I feel left out? Why is the task of expressing these thoughts so important that I am putting in my business hours on this task? Why does the idea of breaking away from the world around me into my own bubble seem so onerous? Why do the noble thoughts of doing well for people of the society not seem exciting enough? If all the things mentioned above were the things that used to define and now I cannot relate to them, am I unsuccessful in defining my 26 years of existence? Am I too pretentious to accept the way I am? Am I just another egotistical individual? Have I been engulfed by complete indolence that I am unable to find answers to the questions that bother me?

I have always been on a look out for answers. To those unanswered questions I add some more questions. How does it matter and why should it matter?

The only time in the day when I feel alive is under the influence of the external motivating factors including caffeine, songs and people. I miss being alive. To be extremely honest I do not even remember the last time I was alive. If I have to strain my memories then the last time I was “alive” it was in April 2008:):).

I know that this is some kind of a mental block that subconsciously I must have brought it on myself. It could just be a phase that could exemplify the Cancerian idiosyncrasy….I do not want to spend words here to diagnose my condition right now…..

Honesty is....

Honesty is the best policy. We all have been taught this lesson from the times even before we stepped inside the premises of our schools. We have not only been taught this but also have been trained to be industrious about practicing this learning. Not only was the indolence towards this practice harshly punished, but also we were looked down upon.
Heavily fed and brought up on this nutritious, but a very basic, fact of life, now I am at crossroads of decisions because of this fact. I am not able to digest this fact after almost two decades of eating it. Why should the bug of indigestion hit the digestive systems of my mind when I am in the most comfortable phase of my life? It turns out that the apparent comfort was the mirage that everyone with a mindset like mine wants to seek in the desert of life.
I will start of by explaining the concept of “most comfortable phase” in the most honest way possible. I spent twelve years getting primary education followed by seven years of more education to get a dentist’s tag in front of my name. After this Herculean achievement I realize that- “Hey, I don’t even want to pursue dentistry anymore!” My parents said-“Okay, go ahead, do whatever you want to, but make sure you earn well.” Was this piece of lesson helping me make my decision? I have no answer for this question. The very thought of pursuing any further education was nipped in the bud because of the simple reason that I did not have any money to do that and well, my parents, did not want to finance any of that because they were planning their retirement soon and also I guess that enough was already spent on me. So one thing led to another and I end up in clinical research at a “big pharma company”. The job is good, the people are good, the pay, well, money can never be good- everything is smooth, in fact it is so smooth that I could get married!
The whole world sees me as the person who should not be bothered by anything currently. He is not doing dentistry, nice job and earning pretty good, traveling all over, staying at good hotels- ‘he must be happy’. And that is where my diagnosis lies- “must be’. It is an illusion. Probably I am the greediest person ever, that I am not even satisfied by what life has to offer. The world does not know that the amount of pretense that I have to face in one of the most regulated audited and so called altruistic jobs- Clinical Research. People only seem to be good; people only seem to be involved in the welfare of all the patients worldwide. But, hey who am I kidding. If I just ignore all this, the job is good; the future prospects are excellent and the money that I will pocket will be extremely great.
I would be playing the perfect “holier than thou” bastard right now if I say that I am the only blessed one with the powers of philanthropy. I like my life to be luxurious as well. I also dream of that pent house at Nepean Sea road or the Bentley or the frequent vacations to my own island. Honestly speaking, instead of these I dream of seeing the world and imbibing the different cultures, be a vagabond for a considerable amount of time. Live like a hippie and get stoned (?) at the all the beautiful places around the world. I do not dream of a settled life with wife and kids. I want to quit the pretentious job that I am doing currently and do all the things just described. Work for the people and mingle in their daily lives for sometime (I am not being the bastard when I say this), move on and see some different set of people. During all these adventures of the life meet the woman of my life and make love during the best moments of life. Open up that sandwich shop and put Grilleria on the world food map…concretize Peace and Love in Arambol…take time off to travel and write that book that I have been wanting to….Only if had the courage to be honest about these options….. What is it that is preventing me from doing all this?
Lessons learnt during childhood were not only about honesty but they were also about inhibitions…. “Don’t talk crazy”, “you have to be do something good in life”, “money is so important to live”, “you have to be well settled in life”. I am afraid to be honest about these thoughts to anyone around me, including myself. My friends must want to kill me for this is the only thing I keep talking about. My parents and my sister think that this is only a “crazy phase” of mine and I shall soon get out of it. Even if I do all that, it would be my parents who would be disheartened the most….Not many people in the world can understand me…. People everywhere think that I am the most sane person…it is an illusion. Lastly I would like to put down, honestly, my biggest fear- I may lose myself. I may lose my craziness. I may not be what I am. I could be married and have kids in the next seven years and do what every person is doing as a part of their daily chores. I may stop being honest and turn into a pretentious being…I will be doing well in life…I may have that penthouse, although somewhere in the suburbs…I may not drive a Bentley but a Skoda at least….not own an island but take a vacation to an exotic place every six months…..but then for all these illusions of happiness I will give up my honest self….the one who wanted to travel the world and write a book…live a life of aloofness for sometime in Ladakh…Peace and Love…Grilleria….all would have become a haze by then….It is becoming increasingly difficult for me to stay positive about the craziness that I so badly want to pursue….I can feel myself constantly being pulled into the world of sanity…To practice insanity along side the world where everything is predefined is not an option that I have thought about…but demarcating the two will not be an easy task…or feasible either…
I would want to conclude these often thought thoughts by saying that honesty is no more the best policy… Honesty is being crazy….Honesty is sometimes a delusion…..Honesty is acceptance.. Honesty would lose all its charm unless it is free of all the inhibitions that it is frequently overshadowed by…honesty is courage….courage to be honest, to accept honesty and practice it…all this is something that each one is aware of …but now it is being observed in a different perspective…

Smells, Sights, Sounds, Seasons and Solitude

The faint smell of the wet earth from far-away that heralds the beginning of an exciting season of showers tickles not only my olfactory sense, but also the thought process that usually is the sole companion of a solitary soul. It has been a month of minimal work but I would not say that my mind has been idle all this time. Books that talk about wild adventures of dogs or about knight-errantry have kept the idleness at bay all through this time.

As I sit on the window pane in the middle of the almost dead night and contemplate on the mundaneness of life or my conjured endeavors to get some amount of excitement into it, my life starts rolling itself in front of me through the various smells and sights that had all been stored in the memory bank.

The smell of chlorine water of the swimming pool takes me back to the phase of my childhood where I was learning to swim. All I wanted during those days was to get out of the pool campus as soon as possible to avoid the harsh comments of my instructors. But I must applaud my mother for being adamant then about my swimming lessons which have been useful ever since.

The smell of medicines has always been an integral part of my memory probably from the day I was born. My father used to smell of medicines whenever he used to get home from his clinic. The frequent trips to his clinic during the school summer vacations and doing nothing there but sit on his “big chair” and doodle on the prescription pads came back to me. The compounder at the clinic was never satisfied pampering with some home made food. I had never thought that these “do nothing” trips would have such an impact on mind that they would show up after 15 years on a solitary contemplative night.

The smell of the dirty socks takes me back to my computer class in school. The school days were something I am not really proud of and also I would not want them to be a part of my active memory, but they form a large portion of memory none the less.

The smell of the earth that started this entire process helped me touch base with all the holidays in the mountains. I do not specifically remember the minute details of these holidays, but I must have surely enjoyed them as they were coming back to me on a happy note. The smell of the earth also brings back the times when I used to frequent the hills and talk to myself at lengths sitting amongst nature.

The smell of the masala chai comes along with the time spent in Dal Housie with Aniket. We had the one of the best chais till date there. The freshly showered trees, mountains, vacant streets, stray dogs and hot masala chai made for a perfect evening back then. It is dismal to accept that Aniket will not be around much to keep a tab on either his or my life.

The smell of the rotting fish brings back the sight of the smiling faces of all the people at House of Charity. The people housed there are going through a difficult patch of their lives, but one thing they will never forget is to give love without any expectations.

The smell of the sea has to do with the recent memories. These memories comprise of the “dreaming with your eyes open” sessions at Marine Drive, Carter Road, etc. with Rahul.

The smell of the cashew feni, hash in the air, perfumes is as fresh as the entire “finding happiness/peace and love” adventure in 2008. These smells remind me of that happiness is simple-a beach, the moon and the sound of the waves are all you need for a catharsis of divine emotions. The philosophizing session about “how inconsequential we are in this huge universe” with Sar is still so clear. These are things that I will never be able to let go of as a part of my soul is still going around Arambol. Happiness has found a new definition from then.

These thoughts are occasionally interrupted with some kind of a humming sound of machinery in the factory close by. This sound makes me feel so privileged. I feel privileged about the freedom and luxury that I enjoy. Freedom to think about my life in the middle of the night where as there are people who are working the night out to earn some bread.

The smell of the drains and the sewer that comes from a typical stray dog in Mumbai makes me smile. I smile at the thought of this smell because this smell comes from the only living being in my recent life who gives me hug for no reason whatsoever.

It feels good to know how the smells and the sounds have brought the seasons of my life back to me on this solitary night to provide me with the solace that one is on a look out for when he starts thinking too much by himself.