Monsoons in Goa
Goa diary : 16 August 2016
South Goa is for the traveller. Let the tourist be content with North Goa and all the touristy things it has to offer.
We went to the fine white beach of Colva in South Goa in the monsoons. The sky was overcast, men stood in a haphazard line, in shorts and raincoats, funny because some of them were going to wade into the sea anyway to draw the fishing net!
The boats drew closer and the men came alive. They brought in the fishing net tangled with seaweed, bits of shells and of course fish. Fishes gasped for air, swishing their tails, and all at once it seemed like the entire beach was filled with them, shining like pieces of tinsel here and there, jumping out of the nets. The stray dogs eyed them, nosing around them in the sand. The crows overhead also waited for a chance to swoop down. A slight drizzle had begun. Undaunted, the men hauled the net in. Women hung around in the background with raincoats and umbrellas, waiting to load the fish into their basket and make their way to the mandi. Already, the boat had made its way to the horizon, returning to the sea. In a few minutes, it would disappear. But the beach was a magical sight, luminous despite the gloom.
South Goa is for the traveller. Let the tourist be content with North Goa and all the touristy things it has to offer.
We went to the fine white beach of Colva in South Goa in the monsoons. The sky was overcast, men stood in a haphazard line, in shorts and raincoats, funny because some of them were going to wade into the sea anyway to draw the fishing net!
The boats drew closer and the men came alive. They brought in the fishing net tangled with seaweed, bits of shells and of course fish. Fishes gasped for air, swishing their tails, and all at once it seemed like the entire beach was filled with them, shining like pieces of tinsel here and there, jumping out of the nets. The stray dogs eyed them, nosing around them in the sand. The crows overhead also waited for a chance to swoop down. A slight drizzle had begun. Undaunted, the men hauled the net in. Women hung around in the background with raincoats and umbrellas, waiting to load the fish into their basket and make their way to the mandi. Already, the boat had made its way to the horizon, returning to the sea. In a few minutes, it would disappear. But the beach was a magical sight, luminous despite the gloom.
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