There is something magical about the whole scene that unfolds at the beach. A bright flaming sun, turning the sky orange with its light, the waves continually lapping at the shore as if trying to play a game of ‘catch me if you can’, the birds appearing like dots in the horizon hurrying to reach home before its dark. So much activity all around me. Yet, this is one of the most calming experiences in my life. I have always loved being at the beach, for various reasons at various stages of my life.
As a child, my parents used to take me to the beach. I would dip my toes into the water, try to hold fast to the sand that the retreating wave tried to snatch away from my grasp. I would laugh like crazy with my mother whom I saw behave like a child, so different from what she used to be at home. Our father, not too fond of the water, would stay with us for a while, then find himself a good place to sit and would click our pictures endlessly.
Time is a jealous being, it drains away from my hands like the sand beneath my feet at the beach.
I looked around at all the young men gathered at the beach, fervently trying to ignore the ones looking lecherously and whistling at the young and old women alike. All the YA novels I read told me that the perfect man was one who would held an old woman with a faltering step or one who would buy a poor beggar child something to eat. Alas, perfection is nothing but a myth. Lesson learnt? No way! My head was in the clouds, I continued to look.
Today after long tiring hours at the office, I sit at the beach….. Meditating….. Wishing I could just go back to those carefree hands, bouncing along the sand while holding onto the strong comforting hands of my parents.
There was no way we could let our blogs just sit and rot, while we blamed everyone but ourselves for not writing. Deciding to put an end to the hiatus on writing, Meena and I have decided to write on every day of November on alternate days. Today if the post is on my page, tomorrow it will be on hers…