Life and Maggi

After months of planning and friends turning traitors and us developing a strong dislike for 'shopping', we managed to make an unplanned trip to Kashid beach. So what if till the last minute Mr.Modest played truant, bringing on all the arbit reasons for us not to go? I, till date, cant figure out who was playing the fool with whom by acting uninterested. He later gave the final goal-reaching nudge we needed, by calling for a cab, thus taking us to the point of no-return in the plan. Ok, we'd miss the pleasure of getting there through more travel modes than one. Fine, we wouldn't feel the smells of rural India seep in and out of us when in the local ferry or the State transport back home. We were still going and that meant it all.

Up at 5 and packing the bare necessities in, brought back memories of the preparations for the weekend getaways; those one day treks out of modernity, to a land where none knew us and surely dint care if Lux was better than Fa. Switch and I were out early, as usual, and sat discussing topics ranging from early morning ablutions to mid day cleanings, while the Croissants guy readied himself for another mundane day ahead. The two hour delay in our leaving kinda mellowed the otherwise excited state that we were in. It was only after my sleep deprived eyes caught sight of the white colored 'silver' Tavera, that the sincerity of this whole expedition seeped in. We were doing it after all.

Settling into the back of the car, I flashed back into those trips with family, where that part of any moving object was reserved for me. It was in that crammed space that I had sat, building castles to live in; singing to myself like I were a rockstar. It was in that dingy that I ruled, oblivious to those claiming to live in better quarters. The pleasures of the wind beating on my face, I missed; yet found the comfort in sitting crossed legged in the dickie of the car, while others squeezed in tighter in the front.

To this day, the smell of the dickie gets me nostalgic and it was in that smell of familiarity that I made myself at home, with Switch as a constant company. So far so good. Life got a wee inch better when destiny played sport and my collection of tamil hits was the only cd in store worth being played. It was time for each of those songs to bring back memories of college, evenings spent in discussion over mind numbing lyrics; of weekends spent in understanding what a 'hyku kavidhai' really meant and of conversations over dinner about why the language was beautiful beyond doubt. Singing aloud with these numbers, picking up the thumping best was a turn-on by itself. Having people around you enjoy it atleast half as much as you do, irrespective of their being miles away from the land of origin of these melodies, is a different experience altogether. Life is good! Fine Mr.Truant was playing truant again. But What the Hell! If he wanted something better he should have fended for himself

Special mention has to be given to the lean mean thing, in the name of a driver, we were blessed with. Adept in returning any conversation you tried to have with him with a cold, dead stare, he managed to blow our nuts off in almost taking us to the totally wrong place. All of this was perfected with his pathetic driving, that made sure he broke too late, enough for us at the back to get a sense of the driver seat and a great habit of halting at any nook he discovered to reward himself with a smoke.

Any amount of frustration that any of us felt, sitting there in the heat, alternating between a fully blown a/c and Shaky's troubled body, bumps that caught us unaware and humps that pushed our heads through the roof were numbed by mid afternoon, when, as promised by all those travelogues on the net, we caught up with the sea. The smell reached us miles away; a quick halt at akshi was a pleasant break; Yes.! I personally couldn't wait to set foot.

And when I finally did, Nirvana was attained. I don’t want to get into the pleasures that my brain felt, already. Because preparations prior to that need mention too. There was a huge round of discussion over night-stay or no-night-stay, with the enlightened ones ruling over the sports and us settling for the former. Then there was a discussion over where to change and who to change and what to change. Uff!! I was all set and itching to unite with the elements that lay ahead.

Having given enough time for such distractions, the waves took care of the rest. If I remember Kutralam as a one-of-its’s-kind in waterfalls, then Kashid holds that place for the waves. They knew we were mean kids and wanted to wash us off for that very reason. As Switch forcedly dragged us further into the demon, the devil's claws moved well over my head at times, drawing me to its bosom. Never before had the quiet water retreating after reaching the shore have such a drag to it that you were more worried on its return than the first hit.

Marvelous was the word. The last storm that hit us was beyond doubt the worst. If not anything else, it instilled the fear of death in me. As it threw me forward into whatever lay ahead and beyond, impressions from the television of trains blasting and buildings exploding ran through my mind. I lived what those people would have, being catapulted by that massive force mightier than them. With no control over where I was going or what would happen when the going ended, I wished everyday in life would be just this; So overwhelmed with adrenaline that you had no time to worry about a minute beyond this one.

Later in the day, as we sat, exhausted; our minds numbed by the whole experience, our body at peace with the non living, comfortable in the taste of the trivial, I felt oneness. With the being outside, the air that surrounded us, the persistent sound of the waves, the constant rattle of the kid wanting to build his own kingdom in the sand, the scream of another mortal being lashed by the waves. Yes! Life made sense.

Time ticking away on our digital minds seemed so immaterial as we lay there watching the sun run its course. To the end of the day, a game of country soccer and cricket sure was a break. I realized that I was playing cricket after years, the minute I held the bat in my hands. I remember the last trial had been at Swaraj, when the Big Uncle, Deloitt Man and I were lazing through a dull holiday afternoon, when the thought of a quick round of box cricket rushed in. The very same rules; one pitch - out, direct out of the compound - out, one run for every touch, off side - no run; Man! life barely changes over the years. I also recollect being the one to score the most runs of the trio. And remember leaving the game in tears, when I had called myself the Gavaskar among the three and Deloitt had teased me for having retired before beginning itself. Little did I know I would hate the sport in the years to come.

It was amidst a rich game and such thoughts that we watched the sun set. A marvel of this sort, I hadn't set my eyes in the years till date. The golden globe slowly merged down with the vast majority of the sea, turning the skies to multiple hues on its way through it all. The purples and the pink were a beauty in their own league. It was a moment when all of us, in our own little worlds, stared at the sun, imagining a world for our own.

The effect took another hour or so to wear out, with us sitting there on the sands and the sky slowly darkening. It had been with much compulsion and utter resolve that I had left the comfort to back where it all had begun. Back in the cab that had been half the reason for us to have such a great day.

While the others lazed around, Switch, H Sac and I let Metallica rule our worlds, free our minds and untie our convoluted thoughts. And it was when this whole journey ended that the Maggi theory was born.