The breathtaking golden hour in Goa, as the sun sets waiting for the moon to rise

Sujay Gupta
Like a nimble ballet dancer skating on thin ice, Chandu Lal’s fingers tug at his sitar strings, his rendition of the evening raga cascading in waves towards the shore where the sea met the setting sun. The sun dipped into the sea, leaving the ripples moving to the shore turn deep orange.
In the evening calm, stretching from the deck of Boca Loca, the beach lounge at Candolim, into the white sands, an elderly couple  who just flew in from the UK settled down stretching their legs and placing soft cushions on their back soaking on Chandu’s sitar renditions. Chandu himself seemed to play a homily tot e setting us, his own salute to the confluence of the sun. Raag bhopali moved to raag jog followed by raag bihag as the sun went down. Dusk slowly settled as the evening lights came on, Chandu moved to raag bhairavi, tugging at his strings. And our soul.
This was a calm project in the offing. On the beaches of Goa, the time between the late afternoons and early evening is absolutely magical. And it is during this window that Goa reclaims itself and breathes back to life for another evening ahead.
The sight of Chandu is just one of the many vignettes of Goa in a tapestry of images through the coasts and hinterlands of Goa in these magical couple of hours. The reason why we say this is because this isn’t as obvious as it sounds. These are fragments that we cling on to, postcards that frame themselves in villages fields and roads. The fixed frame of the church, the football field with a game going on, and the taverna opening up for the evening, the sight of village football enthusiasts sitting on one of the broken walls on the field, wearing T shirts of English clubs watching a game, a lady with gorgeous wrinkles and an omnipresent grin in her balcao meeting relatives of a girl who are on a match making spree.
The evening batch of beef samosas gets fried in Meninos shop in Loutolim, the beef cutlet at Da Silvas in Panjim gets fried too, the sausages at Valankas in Colva gets between hot buns, thejalebis at Lakshmi sweet shop n Aggasaim float in their syrup, even as the sausages right next to it get seasoned, washed in vinegar, the juicy beef burgers with all accompaniments and cheese get ready to be served at ‘The Burger Factory outlets at Morjim and Anjuna, Chef Mrigank at Cocomo at Candolim gets his juicy mutton chops ready the way his grandmother did, years ago, to make his ‘grandmother’s mutton chops’. Life goes on deliciously in this golden hour.
Across the sands of coastal Goa, the spirit of joie de vivre permeates. Volley ball on the beach, fishermen going into sea, the first bottle of wine poured as dinner is ordered in the shack, children returning home, the church bells ringing at the conclusion of the evening mass, the sound of cymbals in the temples of Ponda, and specially now, the songs and the revelry at Samba square in Panjim , post the Carnival, as feet move as Panjim takes to the streets.
These are simple joys of Goa, they are not going anywhere (we hope). These are vignettes that make this land and its people unique.