Was at Goa, so thought of completing the trip by indulging in a clichéd jog-cum-breakfast gig to Miramar,a revered beach there. Did a few stretches, ogled at a few goan chicks busy before stepping into the water with my playlist playing Jingunamani, a Tamil dance number that didn’t belong there, like me.
I stepped into the water and put my feet at a point where the boisterous waves were up to knee level. A few damp moments later, my subconscious self had taken over the reigns to my sensory organs before I had lost track of myself, gazing at the sky. Around this time, there was blurry sight of an incoming ferry, teasing on my viewing perimeter.
Accentuated by waves, the water suddenly seemed to develop a personality of its own. What with regular objects and happenings turning into ponderous metaphors and transferred epithets. Meanwhile my playlist started displaying artificial empathy of its own, playing Maula Maula from Delhi-6 next, in sync with my state of bewilderment. It was a weird morning, with about everything inanimate instigating some level of soul-searching.
That moment I felt like a blind man who was stationed outside a palace all his life, to only get his vision back on his first step into it. The things that happened were commonplace, but their impact was transcendtal.
Suddenly water that had hitherto satiated my thirst, whose temperature I’d regulated in trivial pursuits and used at the deliverable end of my nature’s call, felt like the Creator’s silk touch.
The cyclic waves caressed my feet that were buried firmly in the mud beneath bringing along -shells,snails, conchs,coins- with every iteration reminding me of the temporariness of everything in life- every facet and relationship in a constant flux, bookended by a memory oscillating back and forth.
The initial fracas caused by the rumbling waves, lead to the virgin territory of the conscience, flattered commonly as “call of the soul”.
I was enveloped in the warmth of the Sun’s untiring patronage.The rays that stung initially, soon started to pamper like hickeys. I could visualize minute golden particles descend from the sky, dissolving into every pore of my body like from the palm end of Midas, to his touched.
Maybe it wasn’t the Sun I was squinting at after all, but the powerful eye of the Creator himself. Wait, am I flattering the creator from the shores of the most materialistic of places. Well, irony just died twice.So long to being an agnostic in About me of social media profiles.Goa after all has got the reputation of making you do things that you wouldn’t dream of otherwise.
Meanwhile, the once scantly visible ferry grew in size as it approached the shore.(Probably metaphorical of the realization that had found its shore in my mind.
Overwhelmed, I found myself weeping profusely inundated by gratitude and self-ridicule as the eight minute something song came to an end, ending my epiphany along with it. The air started to smell saline again. The sight of young children scampering like headless chicken, felt like a pet peeve again.The puppeteer had let go of the strings. The waves,sky and the Sun turned lifeless again.