Some unbeatable moments in Goa..

1. "You have an underwear on your face". So I walked into my PG, and I see Gavin (7 yrs old) playing blindfold chase with his friends in the house with Elaine's(his elder sister, 11 yrs.) underwear on his face. And this is how Frida (other elder sister, 9 yrs.) responded to the scene.

2. I enter a bus in Goa, and I see everyone at the window seat with the side seat vacant. It's a Goan thing, always aim for a window seat.

3. Discovering that Goa would be the only place, where you can hear psychedelic in local buses!

4. Solomon's "Do you know?" fact updates with an Irish style, is clearly something unforgettable.

5. Erikson(class 7) saying I want a divorce from my wife; that Indian wives only keep cribbing about sarees and jewelery with his typical fast forward gestures. Funniest kid over there.

6. Walking into Khareband for the first time; a slum area near Margao inhabitated by people who create 'Dhols' for a living and produce kids at lightening speed. Met a family with 10 kids, none of them going to school, hardly dressed, not sure of next meal. Response to why so many kids - 'Allah deta hai!'

7. Getting lost near Gaondongri and following instincts to find a place (some village called Nuterlim) where I went during the first few weeks. Recognizing the waterfall and realizing it's the best place in Goa.

8. Entering into the 24/7 Nescafe near Margao and since there was no one at the counter; making my own coffee and waiting. After 45 min : Instead of the counter person, more people wanting coffee came :) Discussing the concept of 'honest Goan' and paying the next door shop for the coffees.

9. The star-lit sky at Palolim beach. Trying google to find out names of the constellations, pissing off other friends :P

10. First day of swimming :))) Nothing like it!

11. Parasailing for 10 min. Wanting to be in the air for eternity. Wishing to be doing everything - Reading, dancing, eating, drinking, chit chatting - one day suspended in air.

12. The orange-red soil of Sanverdem (a mining area) putting a sort of tan on your skin while waiting for innumerable trucks to cross.

13. The faces of over 1000 kids radiant with unseen joy while dancing to songs by the 'Light of the World' movement. Goosebumps seriously!

14. Diwali celebration at Iona's ancestral house (more than 150 years old) in the frontyard of their "Jorge's Family bar and restaurant". Ferry ride with her, after seeing the place where the river and the sea meets. Meeting her father who is food enthusiast to the level it gets crazy :P No matter how much food there is in the house, he'll always get more in the morning/evening. Eats in courses. Likes to argue about Goa being separate form rest of India over dinner. Quite a happy soul :)

15. Sleeping downstairs with neighbours as Iona feigns illness to her 'about to be divorced' husband saying she's in Belgaun. Crazy but kickass female, never met anything like her!! Super-mom, plumber, mechanic, chef (who hates cooking btw), wild bikrider, forger, fixer and much more..

16. Noticing that there are more extra-marital affairs in Goa than anywhere else in India.

17. Slow dance when intoxicated by moon-lit beach and a lot of other things :)

18. Few silly things I noticed... the way Gavin and Iona always say "See haan, see" before showing some trick; the way Xisto always laughed after making a serious face; the way Frida would touch the inner wall of her left cheek with her tongue when trying out something for the first time; the way Ranjitha's face will have thousand expressions when she's explaining something; the PWD road always buffallo ridden; the pink bus that used to come every morning, with two brother conductors always asking everyone to "Fatle yo" (go back); the way I used to get lost in my own interpretations when people were talking in Konkani, and 'Raju' :) the dog at the bungalow, the way he barked at me the first day and kept me out; and fell in love with me from next day..

19. Frida and Elaine (kids at my PG) using Priyal's and Rishabh's hands and faces as canvas - my last night there. Elaine keeps hugging me, Frida keeps me close when sleeping. Gavin tries to appear nonchalant. Last bed-time story :(

20. At 5 a.m., on my way to airport, still not knowing how quickly everything happened; felt as if I lived a lifetime. Kept remembering my first day at Joet's and how I imagined my time in Goa to be and how drastically different it turned out to be!!!

As I sat there on the beach, I stitched
thoughts for a life to be,
Blinked and found
a different wave, a different sea...

Goa Diary: 25th Aug

Patches of heart got burnt and patches of my soul froze today, listening to Fatima telling about some of the Childline cases. Some of the stories made my stomach turn with utter disgust. Too painful to recollect.

Made bhindi-bhaaji today with tamarind and chicken masala. Actually turned out nice.

Started a chain bedtime story for Elaine, Frida and Gavin; "Swolly and the Barbie". I love these kids already. I am starting to believe that sometimes randomness puts you right in middle of things you would've never known but you most definitely needed to know. 

But there is a silent calmness about me today. Probably, because of the experience at the Children Court today. Plus, watching Iona bringing up three kids independently makes me wonder if parenting isn't  the most difficult yet kickass thing in life. It teaches you everything, child psychology, patience, cooking, story-telling, getting up early; managing time, multitasking, budgeting (better than the most successful entrepreneurs); appreciating the simple things (baby snails, thermocol soup, pogo cartoons etc. ); in Iona's case : even plumbing. electrician jobs, bank jobs, driving/riding, shopping; in short how to do a man's job better than the man and how to rise to the occasion and focus on solution rather than the problem.

Goa Diary: 24th Aug

Bewildering day.. should be recollected in points:

-          Got up with an uneasy feeling with a constant tuck tuck from the upper side of the bungalow. On my very last day, it scared the shit out of me; didn’t have the heart to check so stayed in bed with scissors. Another uneasy thought, this one about someone's eccentricities; was almost like somebody pulled me by the hand and kept pulling me through all the fields, the rocks, the water, the thorns without me getting a good look at them, as he was busy explaining his episodes with women and life. Nice but scary man.

-          Packed once more, puzzle pieces on the floor. 2000 of them.

-          An hour to locate HDFC ATM at Vasco, but the good part was that I met Joeaquim. My how to get my luggage to Margaon puzzle solved right at that moment. He is quite like an angel; first saving me from a disc fiasco on our first meet and again today. Felt kind of weird, that I can't really help him back.

-          No feelings registered while leaving the bungalow.

-          And first kicker, spoils the whole peace structure of my mind. As if, she hasn’t made it difficult enough for me by making me doubt myself for a small mistake, she calls and speaks like I’m some criminal, not to be trusted. It would have been better if instead of the guest house treatment and over-hospitality of bungalow and all, she would have just talked to me, tried to even know what I was like. Never mind, I think she did the best possible thing for me, by letting me go.

-          Felt even weirder as Jokhim was there when my conversation on.

-          Second kicker, the PG that I’m staying. A female, Iona, with three kids, husband cheated with a girl she only brought. She even got her the nursing job, then the beauty parlour job, only to find out that she was pregnant with her husband’s child. Very interesting female, full of life and care.

-          Third kicker, I’m dropped by Iona at the back side of the mosque(it’s a landmark so that I can reach Jan Ugahi’s office) and I take it as another mosque. I take a full round around Margaon market area, just to reach back at the same Mosque. And the unceasing rain throughout the day didn’t make it any simpler.

-          Fourth one. I’m there listening to all the information about Childline and other projects at Jan Ugahi; One of the coordinators, Fatima asks me to come to the court with her tomorrow, and she’s giving the details of the cases. Child abuse at ages as low as three. Sisters abused by their own father, one got pregnant and he still continued to abuse. I almost died for a second.

-          The kids in the new PG are really nice; one is a book-maniac, one is a bag-maniac, the youngest is just a maniac!

-          Unpacked, and exhausted. Need to call PJ now.

Goa Diary: 21st Aug

I think life has become a constant race between packing and unpacking. As soon as unpacking is picking up, packing rushes in and takes the referee by surprise! I’m moving out of the bungalow to Margaon on Tuesday. Don’t want to talk about it, except that it’s a good decision and I’m hopeful that even I’ll run into few surprises myself. 

Goa Diary: 14th Aug

So I blurted out,

In the face of life,

Made one more mistake,

Always walking on a knife.

No erasers here,

Will you help calm my fear?

Feelings uncertain, unknown,

Waiting to belong.

Waiting for your song.

The rush is great, I know,

Everything’s changed, I know,

Will you join me now?

As I no longer know, if I really know how to stop.

I was sitting by the window. Dabolim to Vasco to Panji to Mapusa to Children Walking Tall. The fear of loosing face subsided with the face of nature, smiling and intriguing. Today was a good day, but I still am not over the fact that things can slip out of my hand so surreptitiously. Once more, my carelessness has said the magic words. I am beginning to believe that there is something in this universe working against me but I don’t care now.  I’m always going to try to rise up, always going to find a solution. 

Goa Diary: 6th Aug

I think the party just ended. I came back around 11:45 pm to see my off-season deserted guest house filled with cars and bikes and a party with good live music playing. But I guess under the effect of the mild cold that had become slightly severe and a little rum (that helped a bit for the cold; by the way), I didn’t consider joining the party. So, now that they are playing “Leaving on a jet plane” (It’s around 3:30 a.m. and I just got up with the guilt-feeling that I didn’t wish Shruti ‘Happy Birthday’ yesterday); I think the party just ended.

To relieve me of the guilt, I’ve decided to wish her first thing in the morning; and to try stay awake till then, I picked up ‘City of Djinns’ by William Dalrymple. As expected, it’s written in a way that you don’t feel like putting it down. That is, unless a thought enters your brain and refuses to let you live in peace unless you express it. I apparently was struck by my encounter with Chivonne’s friend more than I realized at that time. Her friend, a ‘looker’, as she said; an addict, but a sensible one; someone who had just about everything a girl would want in a man; except the fact that he committed suicide. The reason for the suicide was this Mumbai girl, with whom he had connected at some ‘other’ level and lost all his reasonable self when she left him. Chivonne told me that he planned his suicide well; he made it a point to meet all his friends over the weekend, and then on Sunday evening took his life first by trying to suffocate himself to death by Baygon spray, which didn’t work, so he hung himself. I haven’t seen him, but I can’t stop thinking about his last few hours. In my head, I can almost visualize him, his life and his end. I remember having this conversation about suicide with Rahul, three-four days ago when I was still in Delhi. It had started because of the book he was reading ‘Lust for Life’ a slightly fictionalized version of Vincent Van Gogh’s life. I told him how it strikes and aches me when a young person, with unfinished dreams, dies. How I keep trying to imagine his last minute conflicts with his own nemesis. How I wish that the misguided courage to overlook everything else and plunge into this, could be guided. If only he would’ve had few more minutes, probably a second thought would’ve hit him; probably he would’ve delayed it for a while, and stayed long enough to reflect and see what a huge mistake it would be to give up so soon. If only somebody would’ve told him that it’s ok if it hurts, that pain is not uncommon or invincible, that a lot of people survive blows bigger than this, and so can you. If only he would’ve given life a second chance!

My head’s heavy with the helplessness of never being able to meet Chivonne’s friend or Vincent for that matter. It’s also partly heavy with the news of flood in Leh; I’m so scared for all the people and kids I know there. There has already been much damage. A cloud burst last night wiped out houses and everything else in many places in and around Leh. It’s time like these I wish I wasn’t an atheist. Then I could at least pray. People are climbing up mountains to save themselves, but no place is safe with constant lightning and rain. The helplessness of being in a place even when you know it can kill you. The roads are blocked and so is the airport with piles of mud and debris. I hope no more damage happens. Death of innocent people is a disgusting thing.

P.S.: Though today sounds pretty dark, I did have a really nice time with Xisto(an ex-drummer football coach) and Memol(his assistant coach) over dinner. Liza is superb, warm and soft-spoken, and always swimming in and out of appointments. I asked her to move me to a shabbier place; and she asked me if I’d like to move to a bungalow! I think I love Goa already.

Goa Diary: 5th Aug

I just couldn’t get up. I knew I had mild signs of fever; but the waves bullying, teasing, pushing and sometimes punishing me, for what took me so long to get to this place, kept me tempted. There’s happiness inside my heart, I’m sure, because there’s no sadness; no reason for not being wild and joyous the way a friend was yesterday because he cleared an important exam he thought he wouldn’t under any circumstances (he was screaming at the top of his lungs, singing and running up and down on main colony road with vigour comparable to Archimides ‘Eureka’ story!) Well, in a way, I’ve cleared something important too; I’ve always wanted to be here, I’ve always wanted to be doing something so interesting. But then, instead of hysterical high, why this strange dead feeling creeping in layers of my sand soaked skin? Is it the solitude? But that hasn’t bothered me ever. In fact, I saw more, I felt more, whenever I’ve been alone. Is it guilt, of past that I’m not sorry for, neither for the fact it happened nor for the circumstances that led it to end? But my heart is wise enough not to brood over things, it couldn’t help. Then, is it just the soberness that hits you before fever. That duct-tapes your excitement and makes you contemplative. I hope not. I hope it’s an intuitive feeling that my life is about to change forever. It’s a feeling of belonging, to a place, much before you have reasons to belong.

I had no bucket, so sat beneath the tap, wiping off the sand with water one body part after another. The hot water, sinking into my sublime thoughts; some of which I hid so carefully, are now wet and exposed. Again, I just couldn’t get up. Had it not been the ‘save water’ gene in my brain, I would have just sat under that tap, waiting for more wet and exposed memory photo-films to be developed. I guess I’ll have to keep running away from these memories, lest they stalk me and make me weak. The spotless floor is not spotless anymore; neither is my conscious. But then, neither is anybody’s! I mean, what’s the use of consciousness if it’s all clean, right?

Today is for looking at the waves from my window; sipping coffee in a place full of rums, vodkas and wine, making mountains of tissue paper ridden with unusual nasal activity and rewinding the episodes selected by the conscious with sub-text narration by the sub-conscious.

Tomorrow will be hopefully less introspective (and feverish plus dripping). Will be going to see the school and meet the kids and Liza J

P.S. : The guest-house room is quite a luxury, overlooks the Bogmalo beach; it has a lamp that looks like half-crescent moon (along with things I absolutely don’t need- T.V., A.C., mini-bar etc.); I should ask Liza to put me up in a shabbier place soon.

Date : 05.08.10