Of People and Places

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 ...

On the road to Thirthahalli from Shimoga, the beautiful Tunga river meanders along, its green water rippling gently in the stillness. We stop a little way further from the Sakkarebayalu elephant camp to get a closer look at the trees that float in the calm waters.   On the other side are dark woods that tower over us – true children of the rainforests around Agumbe. There is a  path among these woods I want to explore, but we are short of time. It is dusk and all colors are merging into shades of violet, umber and grey.   There is a little light reflected in the small clearing at the end of the path and the dense trees that surround it make it look like a halo. And from this clearing comes a man in a bicycle. It is a charming picture and one I hope to be able to put down on paper some day. The tangle of roots from the swamp makes for interesting shapes. There is one that looks like it is raising its arms to the sky.   They may look spooky in the night. A...

On a recent trip to Maharashtra, I saw this kaka and kaki at the Pune Railway station. They must have been on their way to Pandharpur. I have seen devotees making their way to Pandharpur in hordes singing beautiful abhangs, taking their entire family with them. The Varkaris generally make this annual pilgrimage by foot.   Elders and little children walk too, and there is scarcely a break in the singing and music. There is something divine, whether you are a believer of god or not, in voices raised to a common tune, in exaltation of something outside the self. I would like to go with them once. In the month of Ashadh Ekadashi, trains in Maharashtra are filled with pilgrims on their way to Pandharpur. Maybe I will join them. Who knows, I may meet this old couple I saw at the Pune railway station.