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