Of purple lips, sandy hair, Gulmohur blossoms and the sea

Goa was excitement and lots of fun and full of Gulmohur trees in full bloom. Gulmohur blossoms against the blue sky is a sight I have cherished since childhood and Goa this time around was just that.  I took a gazillion pictures that only we will remember fondly. After dusty and hot Delhi, sultry and sweaty Goa was like a soothing balm on our souls. We visited pristine white churches and an old Portuguese House built in 1756 that incidentally belonged to a Portuguese Advocate (Wow!) and was inhabited by him, his wife and their 4 kids. His law degree was from Lisbon and was framed and hung lovingly on the ancient wall that had turned yellow with time. By the time my Mum had progressed to seeing temples Nutty and I put our foot down and asked the folks to proceed. We happily sat outside the temples clicking pictures of each other against the background of shady pav bhaji joints with swarms of tourists. Our tolerance level of the heat, dust and grime has increased considerably I must say as I do not remember feeling irritated at all. I was enjoying the sticky mess my clothes were and the salt on my lips and the feeling of sand in my hair.


Souza Lobo was delicious and the whole family announced my choice to be the perfect one. How we enjoyed the Royal Goan Prawn Fry and the Kingfish Curry Rice and the Prawn Masala Rice. The spicy Pork Sorpatel with only a slight hint of sweetness was devoured by Nutty along with the Cheese Nan. The Aunt and the Mother were instantly debating on how to make it at home. The desserts were divine. I have never tasted such creamy Caramel Custard before and the helping was huge. The Tiramisu was wonderfully bitter.

The beaches, what can I possibly say about the sea and sand. They were in perfect harmony with the waves. I love the sea. The sea will never cease to amaze me. I marvel at its beauty time after time. Like Lee Ann Womack said "I still feet small as I stand beside the ocean." Nutty and I climbed down every cliff we could and made merry in the beaches as we waded in the sea water and jumped from rock to rock and each time without fail I nearly lost my chappals. Some hapless local boy would swim into the water and get it for me as I looked on squealing that there go my pink chappals that Mona bought me from Goa  last year. Our lips were purple after eating jamuns sprinkled with salt that were being sold in paper bags by the local women in those tiny stalls on the winding and curvy paths leading to the beach. They were velvety soft and had melted slightly in the sun that made it even more luscious. We bought insanely coloured harem pants and a funny Goa magnets for my refrigerator. We would be talking in Bengali trying to figure what price should we quote and of course the shop keeper had to be Bengali and he would understand exactly what we did not want him to understand.

We even went water biking in our black and white dresses and what a fright I got. I think I can be a scaredy cat in the water and all Nutty did was to laugh at me being so frightened. I looked like a bedraggled crow by the time we got off. The River Cruise was more of a circus with the strangest people and a cacophony of sounds . Punjabbi music followed me to Panjim too and sadi galli was played in full blast even here. We were more intent on clicking a few more pictures and capturing whatever beauty we could in the frame so that on some summer afternoon when I am down and out and the loo is howling outside eating away at my soul I can look at this picture of the blue blue sea and imagine what it was to be standing at the beach with the spray of waves on my face and the whisper of the sea breeze in my ears and a Gulmohur blossom that I picked up on the sea shore in my hand.