The Sea, the peek-a-boo Sun and the Wind in my hair...

A five day break in the middle of the year to the most-talked about destination of India - Goa.

August is not considered the most ideal time of the year to visit this place. But last August, friends, special occasions, off-season low prices and a chance extended weekend swept me off to the land of the Hippies. Going by the popular bollywood notions, I always imagine this tiny speck of coastal land as a place where the party never ceases. The land of the eternal sun, the sand, the sea, the sun-bathing touristas, the thumping beats from off-the-beach shacks and the wafting aroma of the grilled calamari and the baked crabs; Well, as expected Goa does give you all of this, but unexpectedly so, it surprises you with somethings more beautiful.

We were a mixed-bundle of 16, most of us traveling down from Hyderabad, while few others joined in from Pune, Kolkata and Delhi. A reunion of sort. And what better place to host it in than Goa. 8 of us, including me were the first one's to arrive and the rest were to join us eventually.

The guest-house was in the vicinity of the Calangute beach, the largest beach in north-Goa, and that was the first destination. The scene at the beach wasn't quite as I had visualized: The sea thrashing, the crowd swarming, the life-guards wary; I was disappointed. Was it a mistake after all? A lot many 'travel-advisors' had warned me about the lost spirit of Goa in the monsoons. 

Nevertheless, not to be bogged down, I mustered up enough courage (of course made sure the life-guard was just a shout away) and plunged straight in-between the wild foams. What had looked like thrashing waves was actually just so. The waves seemed to lash out with a vengeance determined to squeeze out all traces of bravado in me. 

I love the sea. But I will be honest, I am scared of water. My deepest nightmare is death by drowning. Maybe that's the oxymoron of life. That what scares you the most lures you with the same intensity. The sea indeed proved it's dominance; plunged me twice to its sandy bottom and kicked me out squawking and spurting salt water, eyes burning and knees scraped. Hmph! "Fine", I stung back at the sea, "suit yourself. If you will not have me, I'm not wooing you either"; and off I went huffing, puffing and dripping in search of something to drink apart from the salt water.

The Men in the circle, also quite roughed up, very gallantly offered to get the Ladies a drink while we soaked in some of the cloud-cloaked sun. Finding a spot some distance away from the bustling crowd we girls settled down on the warm sand. The water had chilled us. The sun warmed us up and I found the 'Happy'ness which was cruelly drowned a moment ago, slowly creeping back. Contented, I nonchalantly observed the crowd milling about. 

The people there mostly seemed to have arrived in truck-loads from far flung places. I do not intend to stereotype people, but suddenly I felt like sitting on the banks of the Ganges witnessing the Kumbh Mela. There were throngs of people, some taking a dip, some squatting on the shore, women in printed cotton sarees holding on to squealing babies, men in pajamas and lungis holding on to umbrellas, all gaping with mouths wide open; gaping at us, I realized uncomfortably. 

Dressed in tees and shorts in contrast to their sarees and lungis, we probably seemed like skin flaunting aliens to them. While I was pointing this out to my girlfriends, I noticed a creepy man in a saffron attire walk right up and pull out his mobile phone to click photos, as if we were on display in a museum. My temper flared up in an instant and I jumped up at the man indignantly. He, who hadn't expected the museum artifacts to suddenly come alive, visibly cowered and mumbling words of apology crept away a safe distance from us.

Admittedly, Calangute was a disaster. I just prayed the rest of the vacation didn't go along the same lines. Shaking off the disappointment we decided to move on to Baga, 2 kms south of the Calangute beach. We picked up Honda Activas from a nearby rental, confirmed the driving route and set out to explore the famous Baga beach.

It was amazing how within a short distance the entire character of the sea changes; talk about split personality. Baga was everything that Calangute wasn't - docile and well-behaved. The waves gently lapped up against me soothing out all my bumps and bruises. Bliss! finally. The water was cold, but after the first screaming dip done away with, it was like I never wanted to get out. The sand also didn't disappoint, being soft and steady, not giving away from under your feet unexpectedly and ditching you among the waves.

All sorts of vendors were swarming about the shoreline - fancy hair braids and trinkets for the hippie look, temporary tattoos for the out-here-in-goa-I'm-a-dude folks, body and foot masseur doling out instant relief to the stressed muscles, sandcastle kits in bright yellow and red to settle the kids running amuck in one place, and not to miss out the food vendors catering spicy bhel-puri, masala cucumber, juicy slices of pineapple, roasted peanuts and what not.

As the waves soothe you, it also takes a toll on you, slowly draining away all the energy. Just a few hours in the water and we were famished. We had feasted on every sort of tid-bits that was sold by the beach vendors but they seemed to vanish the moment we hit the waves back. It was as if we were perpetually hungry. 

And so we hit the shacks.

Food. Food. Food.

Goa doesn't disappoint a carnivore. Tiny Fish, giant fish, clawed crab, crunchy squid, slimy clams, rare meat, red meat, diet meat, bleating meat, oinking meat, clucking meat, fried, grilled, broiled, roasted, sauted, simmered, tossed, soaked, mashed.

Plated.

Bliss.

So like they say, when in Goa, be like the ... nah .. just forget everything else. Just BE.

The nightlife is happening, no surprises there. But the after-nightlife is exotic. Or so I found out.

We hit a popular club in the evening and after having drained ourselves of all sobriety we, of course, felt hungry. We headed out to Curlies on the Anjuna beach. (Oh and might I add just a tiny little note here: Tito's is overhyped. Its dingy, dirty, dark and ugly. Period.)

It was late, probably just after 3 am. The darkest hour. What can I say, the time-line in this city is a blur. 

Curlies was closed, but there was an old lady catering steaming hot Maggi and bread omlette from her makeshift food trolley right in front of the shack. May God bless the lady!

Famished, drained and tottering we crashed onto the warm sand as we waited for the food to unload from the cart. I took off my shoes and squished the sand between the toes. My very own spa right there! Yes, this is why we need vacations; to be able to walk barefoot in the middle of the night without a care in the world. Except maybe food.

Ah! Dreamy whiffs of Maggi, butter and frying eggs wafting along with the salt-laden breeze; one probably cannot imagine a more surreal experience; until I noticed strange flashes in the distance.

The midnight black sea was glowing erratically! As each wave crashed mid-water, they gleamed a vivid luminescent green against the pitch black nothingness surrounding it. I admit I blinked twice and glared at the waters before I poked my friends who were still engrossed with the food cart. I had to make sure I wasn't hallucinating! I have never seen a sight more mesmerizing. I have absolutely no inkling on the science behind such an occurrence, but I couldn't care less. I had just witnessed the beauty of the darkest hour.

During the ride back from Anjuna, I hardly spoke, the green streaks of light still flashing every time I closed my eyes against the wind blowing on my face.

Life's little surprises springs at you when you are most unaware. 

I went seeking entertainment, and entertained I was in this tiny little alcove of euphoria. 

An endless serving of beautiful beaches, some crowded, some happening, some secluded, some violent while some simply happy; A handsome pinch of history, with its rugged forts, pristine churches and romantic monuments; Added is a dollop of firangis, the sight of whom, bring out the hidden firang boldness within us; And to top it up - a generous portion of craziness in the air. 

Voila! I give you the perfect recipe for Instant-'Happy'ness.

Well, this wasn't my first visit there and certainly wouldn't be my last. I will keep going back. I almost get pulled back - everytime I want the feel of the sand squishing between my toes, the sight of the endless stretch of blue before my eyes, the sting of the salty wind on my face, the ruthless suntan on my skin, the enormous burps at the end of every meal, and the crazy feel of my heart thumping against my chest, nonstop.

One can never really get enough of this place.