Babar’s ears flapping in the wind as he sticks his neck out the car’s window
I, telling Sandeep that I am closing my eyes as we descend down a steep road without a divider
I, breaking two teacups
The sun, huge and bright and near as we drive in between and under a canopy of trees in a forest reserve
The red, red soil everywhere around us, and inside the car on Babar’s paw
And then the sight of water finally
The flickering lights on the diyas neatly arranged on the pathway in the front yard of our hotel
The bright fragmented reflection of the sun on the gentle waves
And Babar running towards Sandeep on the shallow part of the sea
A mother absentmindedly walking towards the shore until the water touches her feet
Her toddler stumbling behind her
I, enjoying my spinach and mushroom omelet, a large bowl of fruit and cappuccino
on the beach
The sound of laughter, faint, distant, dream like
A dead starfish by my feet
Duvet covers stained with red soil
Hippies in a holistic restaurant
Hippies on a scooter
A snake on the road towards Palolem beach
A middle age woman in a pink satin Sunday dress gripping a bible on her chest
An old church I will not enter
Are the only memories I have of our trip to Agonda beach in Goa two years ago.
