It’s been more than 10 years roughly since we’ve been on a family trip. My memory fails to even remember the last time it happened. When the idea of a trip was initiated, as ardent lovers of Goa, and a genuine liking for the concept of alcohol, a mutual decision was made. I suppose South Goa is comparatively peaceful which led to us booking a place there. Colva beach is 200m from where we live – within walking distance, obviously. But my dad who apparently claimed that he would not roam around because of old age decided to take his dear daughter to Calangute beach which is a one-hour drive from here.
One might wonder why.
My whole point was a beach is a beach, what difference does it make?
It was then that my dad showered some love and knowledge I was lacking.
He said, “Calangute beach was the queen of all beaches and the second largest, next to Marina, I don’t want my daughter missing out on it”.
So, I drove to North Goa, and all along the way his face lit up as he reminisced his youthful days here – It was very cute, and I was filled with awe.
On most days, I’m an extrovert, I love socializing except when there’s a lot of noise in my head. But the second I stepped into Calangute beach, I had a genuine aversion towards people.
(My sanity was indulging in water sports besides actual water sports.
Heat, Men eve-teasing right at the entrance, my parents forcing me to buy glasses and a hat which was okay, I enjoyed it, but that was followed by clicking pictures of me with it, and a sea of people, lol. Pun intended.)
Since my dad was too enthusiastic and I love him too much, I wet my leg for twenty minutes. After which, we all chilled for a while, sipped on some great lemon soda, and left to have lunch where I flushed my body with sufficient alcohol because it was always my dream to go to the beach, drunk. Dreams come true, indeed.
On our way back, I was too tired to drive. So, this uncle familiar among extended family members, who accompanied us because I can’t drive long distances due to signs of old age took the driver’s seat. For some reason, I feel the need to mention what I’m about to type. Probably, because it was extremely funny. He handed over his phone to help him with directions. I diligently pressed the google search bar to start typing our destination which was when I came across his top google searches. His exact words were “Marriage first night tamil”.
I have an issue. I’ve tried it and I know that I cannot control my laughter when something hilarious happens even in highly serious situations. That said, I was tripping alone in the passenger seat and my dad thought I have a “boyfriend” who is making me giggle to an extent that my stomach hurts.
How should I confess the reality to my dad? (If you know, you know.)
Anyway, man has his needs, that’s cool, not a problem.
We went back to the room, packed clothes in 2 minutes in the hope of having memorable beach times, not just beach times but drunk beach times, and walked to the Colva beach. Now, the side of the beach that we were on barely had people, not like that would have stopped me from being fully ready to do all sorts of stupid things because these are the “days of my youth”.
One, One and a half hours straight, it was all about beach shenanigans. I had rolled, jumped, put my head inside to check if something was visible, tried to swim, researched wet sand, gone a little deep, and all that. I was having the moment of my life.
For one second, I decided to stand still and behave. Something stung me and mind it, on both my feet. It was extremely intense, I ran to the shore.
What came after that was itching, burning, absurd patterns in the form of rashes, weird sensations, flashes of Monica, Chandler, Joey, my yoga teacher, and her lessons on observing pain and not giving into it, really considering somebody to pee on me, pain, pain, pain.
Heartbreak and stuff were not excruciating pain, this was, I thought to myself.
From collective research with friends, I assume it’s a Jellyfish or a Sea Urchin.
I was asked if I want to just go back to the room. But, my eyes were full of strokes of orange and red, and I was feeling like a very important fictional character who just could not afford to miss an aesthetic sunset that was precisely at a 90-degree angle from where I was almost dying.
They say that life can take a beautiful form even when you’re suffering and sprinkle a few happy moments here and there if you’re really willing to look and own it.
I did.
Faraway, as I stood waiting to watch a striking sunset, I witnessed my mother losing track of time, enjoying herself, and unleashing her inner child with joy.
She was in her element.
I might have even teared up a little with a sense of gratitude for her mere existence. What a rare occasion it was, to finally see a woman of that generation, mothers, particularly Indian mothers, especially my mother be the happy, breezy and carefree person that she was at that moment.
As she dipped her hand in the sea and tried to balance herself from the ebb and flow of the wave, I knew that she was the strongest woman I’ll ever know, the one who knows to stay at the crest of every wave.
The sun set right behind her.
It was the most wholesome moment of my life.