In a decade of wanderings, journeys, as always, have been
the destination, a source of stories and memories, of discoveries and mapping
histories. They are lessons in geography and pit stops of gastronomy, with the
best places to eat so often ensconced on the road sides.
These journeys often have to be planned or woven into a
working day. The long route has to be taken, the lovelier route and the lazier
route. From bicycle paths in my beloved Loutolim to the river hugging path that
bends along the Reis Magos Fort, each a balm for the soul and a vitamin for the
spirit. These journeys tell you exactly why Wordsworth used to be enthralled by
Tintern Abbey or why poet Shelly’s soul is still in Bournemouth in Dorset in
England though he lies buried in Rome. Like people, it is also places,
sometimes even more so, which move sensitive beings.
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In Goa the harmony of the autumn with the luster in the sky
quickly gives way to a hint of winter, then comes a period of cool breezes
before the balmy summer months set in. It is now when the need to return to our
coasts is the greatest, when the tourists are on their way back and Goa is
inching to come back to those who live and love here. This is the time Goa is
like the tired lady of the house after the guests have gone, waiting to put her
tired feet up and have a snooze.
It is in this lull and quiet that the beauty of Goa is best
consumed. The road that turns sharply towards Reis Magos from the junction
which leads to INS Mandovi, to Nerul and Saipem, suddenly widens to allow the
expanse of the river and the sea to hit you in 3D mode. Every road has moments
of epiphany, like the Great Ocean road in Victoria Australia. Stop at the Reis
Magos Fort junction and drive ahead for about 100 metres and then look at the
sea just after a lovely little river side restaurant called Babazin. This is
where it all comes together. The River waltzing with the sea, the waves playing
the role of the omnipresent DJ, boats bobbing over yonder and then suddenly the
calm is shattered by a big wave crashing on the shore almost threatening
to hit the Reis Magos Fort across. Well
the Fort has seen it all, even if we haven’t.
A good place to soak all this in is the Babazin restaurant,
run by a local family. It’s a river shack with tables facing the river or the sea
– call it what you will – since it’s very close to the confluence of the
Mandovi and the Arabian. Sit back, put your legs up and order the Cafreal Poli.
Order one more by which time the mussels rawa fry and the prawn is all done.
Keep eating, drinking and letting yourself go. This is Goa in a freeze
frame. A Goa that needs no words, not
even this column or all that is written.
While Babazin is a
great place to be at any time, it is at night when Goa works its magic on its
banks. The lights of Panjim, the casino boats which are an eyesore by the day
but their lights add to a bit of the charm in the otherwise inky backdrop. And
if the moon is rising, feast on the streaks of moonlight shining on the waves
giving them a silvery glow as they meet the shore.
But the day has its treasures too. As the sun sets and
before darkness greets the ocean, it is family time on the sandy stretch and
the rocks on the banks. The beach is busy. Football and cricket games go on in
the sand as other swimmers dive in or simply climb up the rocks and then come
back in their swimming trunks to kick a ball. At times one image stands out.
Last week it was this. A very elderly couple, both with walking sticks were
supporting each other with dignity and grace and love as they stood on the
beach, pausing everything around them and soaking in the moment looking into
each other’s eyes. And yet we say romance is dying. That never does.
It is journeys like these which allow you to step back and
take sips of this land we choose to live in. Let’s drink this elixir, and toast
Shelly’s beautiful line, “I have drunken
deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight”.
