“Babes in bikinis orange and bright,
Too flimsy to quite hold on tight.
Glasses of wine all around the pool,
Aromas delicious and worthy of drool.
A reckless sea cracking the shore,
Unleashing the waviest from its store.
A dark tan clingy and brown,
Festive nightlights all over the town.
Bikes on rent and a baby soft lane,
Tattoo parlours that claim ‘no pain’.
English hats to shade from the sun,
Summer dresses to flaunt for fun.
Beach shacks with karaoke bars,
Quiet tables to look at the stars.
The rumbling shore to sit quietly by,
To hold on tight as the good times fly.
The sun and sand in memories to lock,
For a smile later… for dreams to stock.”
P.S.: Child (ish?). That’s how Goa makes me feel. Like I can fly. Like I can pluck a star for my Christmas basket. And there’s this voice in my head which says all I prayed for at the little church near Candolim Beach is going to come true. And when it does, I am going back.
Picture Courtesy: Manish Kumar
It could very well have been the 13th considering the hideous state my heart is in. My computer screen seems the friendliest to me today – it’s been patient with my mood and is still right in front of me, stable and unblinking. So Dear HP Computer, do hear out my list of grievances and prayers. Even though you can hardly help, at least you are someone who will listen. And allow me to undo and redo and re-wish and re-cap as many times as I want.
1. My hair feels abominably frizzy! And it was just the other day I washed it. I detest this jam-sticky summer. I will now have to spend quite a bit of Sunday morning (which wouldn’t begin before 11 considering the insomniac nights I have been spending all of this week) pampering my mane.
I steal a glance up at you,
when you’re looking out at the sea.
One big grin – a sparkle in your eye,
you’ve forgotten all about me.
You walk on by the impish blue waves,
as the sun descends for the day.
You hear me not when I call out,
and there’s so much left to say.
I sit by you – sometimes – you smile,
the world one breath of paradise.
And then she comes, the moment lost,
I sigh and feign surprise.
And after she goes you sometimes ask,
‘You sure everything’s all right?’
The ceaseless roar of the ocean then,
fails to mask my delight.
I wish you’d question me more often,
perhaps some answers I’ll find.
For as the current scenario goes,
I’m convinced I’m out of my mind.