Journeys Ahead: Goa Beckons

It is with a bated sense that I am getting ready for another interlude with Goa - once again a dark, blue, limpid, monsoon Goa. Images float in my head, memories of the past visit, a love affair, short, brief, tantalising, full of promises to return. Through the year, I have carried this Goa, as a secret lover, hidden, luring, adding color to my days, a vastness in my heart. The vastness of infinite skies poised close, almost touching, achingly to a needy lashing ocean, whipping its passions to frothy silver, reaching , breaking over a wet, rain drenched land of gold and grey...small polka dots drawn painstakingly on sands with chiffon border, drawn and redrawn with every rush of rain, every breath of monsoon winds, ups and downs of swollen tides, and broodingly witnessed by the dark, swaying, sentinel palms. The sound of this loving, and yielding, fills the world. The desire of the skies to bear down and join this game of land and water, crackles with frustration, roars with anger...and all this plays a turmoil on my awakened heart - my lone footsteps weave between water and sand, marking and quickly disappearing, as this vanishing moment of love and life.