That Gift of Goa

Twenty four years! Yes I was turning 24 and the thumbnail was; “confusion, a complete state of delirium.”

Over the period of time, I had learnt how to socialize, talk to people but the discomfort is still deep seeded in the heart.

It has always been easy for me to converse with a total stranger than somebody that I have always known.

This time it was different. I knew him, almost for 20 years of my life!

It’s 19:40 and my phone rings. It was blaring at the top of its voice in the bedroom and I was dying to know who had called because it was my birthday week and people had been calling. Few had been kind enough to send me a token of their remembrance.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing.”

“But why? It’s your birthday.”

“Because I have nothing to do.”

“Okay! Here’s a plan. Would you like to come to Goa with me for your birthday?”

So, here was a plan. And you can understand the excitement I would have felt. I have never been quite a loner but the idea had completely set into me that I had also never been totally accepted.

The social circle that I have had comprises of a huge number of people but the inner circle that I really have encompasses only a few. Few, who are in my heart and my mind, few who would come to me at 4 am just for a smoke, few who would always look down upon me but when I am in need they will go on a rampage, who would wake me up at night and ask me to talk, few who would try to set me up and then laugh at me.

This circle was shrinking, and I was unaware. The walls were crumbling

“Yes, yes I am game.” I wish I had never said that.

I packed up, called my boss and said that I would be on a 2 day leave for my birthday. Happy that I was, it was Goa Birthday.

We met at around 8:00 in the morning and started the drive to Goa, one of the best road trips that I had ever had.

Twelve hour ride along the meandering roads through the nature, it’s when you fall in love. Fall in love with your own self, fall in love with the lush green, fall in love with the dusty road, the blue sky, the very idea of speed. And to top the adrenaline, alcohol and nicotine were doing their best.

As I put my feet out on the deck of the car and lay back with music in the air, I felt like life was at its best. He was there sitting right beside me and I still could not understand the destiny’s laugh. 

Goa is a second home. I head for it as and when I feel the need to get into my cocoon, embrace my own self and feel the life in me. It brings me back from the world of dead to the world of me.

It was cold and probably I should have been jaded after a 3 hour sleep last night and a twelve hour journey but I felt a surge of freshness burst into me the moment I set my foot out of the car and headed for the cold sand of Anjuna. Life seemed to be at its zenith.

The fanatical trip that it was, I had never imagined that the events would turn out this way.

DAY 1: The Home Coming

It was way into the night. We say that places close to your heart are places where you find your soul mates, where you engage in all that your soul would ever wants to do. My heart was dancing; my eyes were scintillating as we held hands and walked the chilly sandy beach of Anjuna. I was fluttering like a butterfly set loose on a plateau of flowers. I was sky high in exhilaration.

As I gutted the beer, and left my companions bickering about something and everything, I was taking in the salt laden breeze atop the terrace of Janet & Jones. What more could I ask from life?

I wanted to hug him and thank him from bringing me back to my home, to let me meet people who have come in my life for a short while but worth the while, people from MY Goa, people worth the smile that I am having on my lips as I write this. I was missing someone. I was reminiscing about the last lone trip. Goa has always given me memories. Just one dance at the very same café had brought us close during that trip. Close not physically but we had struck a chord in a more sublime way. How Can I ever forget him who had brought me smiles? A total stranger from a country of love and romance, he had shown me how a smile could just take away all the apprehensions.

I felt the urge to go back and write to him.

I guess it was 4 am when we returned to our stay at the cozy shack White Negro.

DAY 2: The Rastafari

GOA morning!

After a sumptuous breakfast at a small café at Chapora, we headed for the Aguadas. Still unwary of what the trip had in store for me, I was relishing every moment.

The long drive to Morjim, Calangute, the beer, the scotch, people, colors of their dresses, the artifacts they were all giving me a different kind of high. I missed the party at Lagoona and The Little Door. I missed the very essence of being with strangers, strangers who become a part of you. Who don’t judge you, but laugh with you, who hold your hands not because they know you but because they are in love with the twinkle in your eyes, because you synced.

As we headed towards the night, we headed back to Anjuna and this time, we were a part of the crazy mad Goa at the Curlies. It was 25^th Dec and the dear me Goa celebrates Christmas with a frenzy. I could feel energy everywhere. Even the hookah that I was puffing on, seemed to be an entirely out of the world experience. He was sitting right beside me. We were colored in the radium paints as the music blared and our feet moved like unrestrained dogs. I couldn't hold back anymore and danced my heart out.

One of the most vivid re-collections that I have from that night is the search for God’s gift to humanity; the herb that brings the universe together.

The only irritation on this trip was his friend. Someone with a nose too high and one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. I wished this pain had never been introduced to me and to this beauty. The arrogant brat was sucking away the joy, the ebullience of Rastafarianism.

As I smoked up with his friends, he went into a deep slumber and I don’t recall having any conversation thereafter that night. I slept peacefully. The world belonged to me.

DAY 3: The Last Night

Do I really need to write about every single place I went? I hope not. Goa is home. Let it be that way.

This was the last night that we were spending in Goa and I wanted to make the most of it.

As we sat on the serene beach of Ozran, I felt a connection for the first time; a connection that had aroused out of jealousy, as you may call it; jealousy of someone else being close to him. The breeze, the lights, the noise of water rumbling on to the rocks, it was just perfect to feel love, or so I thought.

That arrogant brat was right. I was probably jealous. 20 years of togetherness and someone else holds an important place, the fact was beyond my understanding or rather I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

What I was oblivious of, were the feelings that his heart was brewing.

The night unfurled its wings and we headed back to our abode.

Was it alcohol in our blood or was it real, I still don’t get it. What made us come together?

“This is your Gift!” he had said as he embraced me.

The embrace was pure. Or that I thought it was. A simple hug and things just changed. Twenty years of friendship had just found its course. A relationship was blooming over the grave of another.

What we failed to understand was that flowers on the graves do not live for long. They wither away and with time their fragrance fades giving way to weary petals. The question is, had I misjudged him? A forlorn, wretched soul that he had become, I was well aware of it. He was an unhappy soul and I had encountered this on several occasions. What pulled me towards him? It is said that ghosts are attracted to people of their kind. Was my ghost looking out for him? Or rather no, my soul wanted me to feel the pangs of melancholy.

I would accept the latter.

This trip had come to an end and with that had died the effervescence of our relationship.

It was a short lived one. Three days from now, it will die its natural death, this I had no clue of.

Why does it happen that when you start holding on to your life, the strings change into granules of ever slippery sand and pass through your fingers? I was in control of my life and then this trip had changed everything. My heart ached.

The friendship had worn out already. And what I was holding on to was a weak raw thread. I believed it was a strong rope that would bind us. God, I was wrong.

I do not blame him for embracing me, showing me love and then breaking my heart. He made his exit and for good.

We will all die. That’s inevitable. So why stop living? Actually sooner or later, it never matters; time is the empyrean, the God, the almighty. One day, when the clock of the universe stops for one of us, that day, that very day we will watch the entire picture. What will then matter; the choices that we actually made for our lives, the lies we spoke or how sacramental our lives had been?

Whatever it be, Goa has always given me love, it has given me memories, stories that I would be telling twenty years from now. This time it went one step further and cleansed my palette of the unworthy.

Goa you just bring me smiles.