One of the most profound memories of my childhood is that of a day out at the beach. It had a funny name starting with B like most beaches in Goa. It was one of those beaches that neither got too crowded nor too lonely. There was a small bunch of families and foreigners littered on its clean, white sands. The water looked calm and safe for swimming. It was a perfect day for me. My dad, my mom and me. I was five years old.
Some twenty beach umbrellas dotted the beach. There were many red, blue and bright yellow ones. A few were multi-coloured with cartoon surfer guy pictures on a frothy beach. Locals had put up some quaint little beach shacks also. These also had multi-coloured umbrella roofs, with pictures of thick, shady coconut groves and waves in the sea. They served everything from ice cold drinks and beer to spicy Goan cuisine. My dad got me a leamon ice drink and himself a beer.
The local tourists of the place wore shorts to swim. The girls wore t-stirts, the guys did not. My mom told me that though I was a girl, I was young and did not require a t-shirt. I found this in stark contrast with the white people. Their shorts were tighter and shorter. Some of them wore tops, some of them did not. Both girls and boys. My mom said that they were sunbathers stripping off to catch some sun. Most of the brown men there were gawking at the white girls without tops. I was told that this was not because they were bad people, but because they were not used to it.
We found a part of the beach that was littered with broken mother of pearl and other shells. I noticed people picking up the good looking ones to keep in their shell collections. Further along the length of the beach, we found the soft sand sloping up into a rocky outcrop. There were small hill like structures there that we decided to explore. slightly higher up along the slope, we found little caves with clay pots and utensils inside. We also found drawings on the cave walls. I thought that they must have been left there by cave men. My mom thought that it was more likely that travelling sadus (hermits) had taken refuge there some time in the near past.
Though I still cant remember the name of the beach, I can never forget the experiences I had there. It was here that I had my first major adventure and started my first shell collection.
No comments:
Post a Comment