"Damn!", I say to myself. "When will I ever get rid of these ". The
vacation dissolves in front of my eyes as I stare down the random
embossed patches on my forearm, appear and spread. Small islands
coalescing into bigger islands. I sit inside my hut, at the margin of
the inviting beach of Palolem. The hut itself is neatly anchored on
solid wood columns that protect it from collapsing against the force of
the tides. It's now been a month or so since I started getting
reactions to the sun's ultraviolet. I decided to ignore it, the
perennially disillussioned when it comes to allopathic medicines. I
decided to take my chances and catch the bus to Goa.
"Not the best of decisions bro", I think aloud. My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yes, who is it"?, I ask. A cheerful face peeps into the half open door of my duplex shack.
"Hi, I'm Kyra, the girl next door", she says. Looking at her, one would hardly relate to the pun she intended. Big shining eyes, sharp features and ravenous black hair. Cheerful and so full of life. "Aren't you coming out? It's wonderful out there! And we're all planning some beach ball, so why dont you join us?" The barrage of questions stop as Kyra stares at the embossed designs on my hands. "What's wrong with you? Something you ate?", she looks enquiringly at me.
"Nah, I say, its the sun. Didn't know it could be so intense", I reply. Kyra barely listens to what I have to say and throws a yellow tube of sun screen at me. "I too had the same problems. But with this, I regained my independence. Freedom at mid-day", she says wittily. "Come, let's go and in the evening you can go see a doctor and get some medicines for the rashes". "Is she kidding me?" I wonder, then think "what the hell, I have my armour".
I eagerly squeeze the tube and rub the cream all over my face and arm. In a few minutes I'm ready to go. I see a remarkable change in me. I'm happy. Happy at the thought of being liberated from my shack. Happy at the thought that my vacation is complete again. Happy at the thought of having met Kyra and her timely solution. "Yeah, let's play ball" I say aloud to no one in particular and dash off to the white glistening sands. Newton's third law of motion springs into action and slows me down physically but not in my enthusiasm. I see an empty slot in Kyra's team. She waves at me and asks me to play centre in the volleyball match.
The match ends. We lose. But the day is full of wins. Kyra and I decide to meet for dinner in the evening and plan for the day tomorrow. I make a quick rendezvous to the doctor who remarks that its routine and quite a few people get it. The sunscreen is supported by some medicines and I'm good to go. The evening is bright with the moon out in its full glory. The white sands give a silver sheen to the night, while the dancing waters beyond distort the moon's rotundness erratically; the movements reminding the mesmerized audience that time has not come to a standstill. The evening breeze is cool, and I'm cooled further with a pina colada in my hand. Heaven indeed. To make things better, Kyra finally joins me and together, we silently appreciate Nature's symphony being played in full glory. "So, how are you feeling now?", Kyra breaks the silence, and smiles at me with an expression that can only rival Meg Ryan when she meets Harry. I am grateful and she shoo shoo's away my thanks and eagerly starts planning for tomorrow. The plan is set. We decide to rent a bike and discover Goa.
The day starts early at six. We're both up and ready to leave by seven, fully enthused at the thought of discovering the wonderful landscape that makes up this paradise. I offer to ride to which Kyra opposes. There is a debate and we agree to take turns. We take our armour out of our bags and apply the lotion. Again I revel in the liberating effect this has on me. Ready to soak up the sun. Ready to go and live. Live life, king size!
It's queer being a pillion rider to Kyra. Can she ride this thing I wonder. A single kick and the motorbike growls to life. I hop on and we're on the road in a jiffy. We decide to visit first the St Augustine church. The structure is magnificent but does not attract as much attention as the more frequented churches of Old Goa. The ruins reveal a rich architecture all set in laterite. Wandering around rooms without roofs and collapsed walls gives a strange feeling. I cant place it and neither can Kyra. Kyra walks around touching the walls, as if the textured laterite were a form of Braille telling stories of the past in minute detail. She says "Isn't this awesome. And how awesome this looks in this bright morning sunlight." We sit on one of the laterite blocks and bask in the morning rays. Feeling free. Feeling elated. Feeling a sense of fullfillment, difficult to define.
"Come on lets go. We've got quite a lot to cover during the day", she gives me a shout. I say to her "It's my turn now, I ride". To which she slyly retorts "But what about the sun? That's not good for you". "Ha ha...nice try, but I'm covered in armour. No way am I going to miss on riding around Goa." I grab the keys from her and we're off to catch a glimpse of the mummified remains of St Francis Xavier at the Basilica of Bom Jesus. Riding along the banks of the river and the narrow roads of old Goa, with bright yellow coloured houses fencing them is an experience beyond belief. After visiting the church and paying our respects to the Saint we proceed to Panjim and from there to Dona Paula for some water sport action. It's the middle of the day and getting quite hot. But both of us continue unabated. Least bothered by the onslaught of the sun's rays. After a few routinely planned rounds on the water scooter, we are done. Not as much fun as riding around. We both decide to go off to Miramar beach and relax through the evening with some ice cream.
Trrrring. Trrrring. I'm jolted out of my sleep. Shit. That was a freakin' dream I was having. This blogging and competitions are really getting into my head. If only there really was Kyra. Ah, wishful thinking. Those moments felt so real. It was surreal. "Who's there?" I shout. "Courier" comes the reply. I sigh, reach for my pen and open the door. I collect the courier and see it's from Lakme. Probably the gift hamper that they promised. I open it and see my armours. I feel liberated again. In reality, for a change. This is not a dream. The mobile starts screaming slowly. That awful ringtone I set for a message alert starts shrieking "Message, message, message". I read the tide of SMS's coming to me. One says "Congrats dude, you own a Kindle!". Another says "You beat them all! Way to go!" And so on the barrage continues, some less effusive in their messages. Another interruption.
The phone rings. I say "Hello". The voice on the other end is sweet. Cheerful and full of life.
"Hi, this is Kyra. How about a trip to Goa again?"
"Not the best of decisions bro", I think aloud. My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. "Yes, who is it"?, I ask. A cheerful face peeps into the half open door of my duplex shack.
"Hi, I'm Kyra, the girl next door", she says. Looking at her, one would hardly relate to the pun she intended. Big shining eyes, sharp features and ravenous black hair. Cheerful and so full of life. "Aren't you coming out? It's wonderful out there! And we're all planning some beach ball, so why dont you join us?" The barrage of questions stop as Kyra stares at the embossed designs on my hands. "What's wrong with you? Something you ate?", she looks enquiringly at me.
"Nah, I say, its the sun. Didn't know it could be so intense", I reply. Kyra barely listens to what I have to say and throws a yellow tube of sun screen at me. "I too had the same problems. But with this, I regained my independence. Freedom at mid-day", she says wittily. "Come, let's go and in the evening you can go see a doctor and get some medicines for the rashes". "Is she kidding me?" I wonder, then think "what the hell, I have my armour".
I eagerly squeeze the tube and rub the cream all over my face and arm. In a few minutes I'm ready to go. I see a remarkable change in me. I'm happy. Happy at the thought of being liberated from my shack. Happy at the thought that my vacation is complete again. Happy at the thought of having met Kyra and her timely solution. "Yeah, let's play ball" I say aloud to no one in particular and dash off to the white glistening sands. Newton's third law of motion springs into action and slows me down physically but not in my enthusiasm. I see an empty slot in Kyra's team. She waves at me and asks me to play centre in the volleyball match.
The match ends. We lose. But the day is full of wins. Kyra and I decide to meet for dinner in the evening and plan for the day tomorrow. I make a quick rendezvous to the doctor who remarks that its routine and quite a few people get it. The sunscreen is supported by some medicines and I'm good to go. The evening is bright with the moon out in its full glory. The white sands give a silver sheen to the night, while the dancing waters beyond distort the moon's rotundness erratically; the movements reminding the mesmerized audience that time has not come to a standstill. The evening breeze is cool, and I'm cooled further with a pina colada in my hand. Heaven indeed. To make things better, Kyra finally joins me and together, we silently appreciate Nature's symphony being played in full glory. "So, how are you feeling now?", Kyra breaks the silence, and smiles at me with an expression that can only rival Meg Ryan when she meets Harry. I am grateful and she shoo shoo's away my thanks and eagerly starts planning for tomorrow. The plan is set. We decide to rent a bike and discover Goa.
The day starts early at six. We're both up and ready to leave by seven, fully enthused at the thought of discovering the wonderful landscape that makes up this paradise. I offer to ride to which Kyra opposes. There is a debate and we agree to take turns. We take our armour out of our bags and apply the lotion. Again I revel in the liberating effect this has on me. Ready to soak up the sun. Ready to go and live. Live life, king size!
It's queer being a pillion rider to Kyra. Can she ride this thing I wonder. A single kick and the motorbike growls to life. I hop on and we're on the road in a jiffy. We decide to visit first the St Augustine church. The structure is magnificent but does not attract as much attention as the more frequented churches of Old Goa. The ruins reveal a rich architecture all set in laterite. Wandering around rooms without roofs and collapsed walls gives a strange feeling. I cant place it and neither can Kyra. Kyra walks around touching the walls, as if the textured laterite were a form of Braille telling stories of the past in minute detail. She says "Isn't this awesome. And how awesome this looks in this bright morning sunlight." We sit on one of the laterite blocks and bask in the morning rays. Feeling free. Feeling elated. Feeling a sense of fullfillment, difficult to define.
"Come on lets go. We've got quite a lot to cover during the day", she gives me a shout. I say to her "It's my turn now, I ride". To which she slyly retorts "But what about the sun? That's not good for you". "Ha ha...nice try, but I'm covered in armour. No way am I going to miss on riding around Goa." I grab the keys from her and we're off to catch a glimpse of the mummified remains of St Francis Xavier at the Basilica of Bom Jesus. Riding along the banks of the river and the narrow roads of old Goa, with bright yellow coloured houses fencing them is an experience beyond belief. After visiting the church and paying our respects to the Saint we proceed to Panjim and from there to Dona Paula for some water sport action. It's the middle of the day and getting quite hot. But both of us continue unabated. Least bothered by the onslaught of the sun's rays. After a few routinely planned rounds on the water scooter, we are done. Not as much fun as riding around. We both decide to go off to Miramar beach and relax through the evening with some ice cream.
Trrrring. Trrrring. I'm jolted out of my sleep. Shit. That was a freakin' dream I was having. This blogging and competitions are really getting into my head. If only there really was Kyra. Ah, wishful thinking. Those moments felt so real. It was surreal. "Who's there?" I shout. "Courier" comes the reply. I sigh, reach for my pen and open the door. I collect the courier and see it's from Lakme. Probably the gift hamper that they promised. I open it and see my armours. I feel liberated again. In reality, for a change. This is not a dream. The mobile starts screaming slowly. That awful ringtone I set for a message alert starts shrieking "Message, message, message". I read the tide of SMS's coming to me. One says "Congrats dude, you own a Kindle!". Another says "You beat them all! Way to go!" And so on the barrage continues, some less effusive in their messages. Another interruption.
The phone rings. I say "Hello". The voice on the other end is sweet. Cheerful and full of life.
"Hi, this is Kyra. How about a trip to Goa again?"
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