Goa Jaunt- 2015

Almost twenty days back, we were flying back to Delhi from Mumbai after an overwhelming delectation in Goa. Dunno who to thank more: My sister, who initiated all this or my in-laws, who comfortably provided me the rooms to stay in Delhi or go for the pleasure trip. Even today,  it’s difficult for even the broader lot to allow their daughters-in-law to enjoy the jaunts especially without the better halves.

Yes! Ankz wasn’t there. It was a fultu girls trip involving me, my two lovely sis, Mollidi and Poo. I am reminiscing our immense  dilemma of moving to Goa;  because of our aged Bua’s bedridden condition. Parents were worried for her recovery. Sense of duty and ethics were creating anxious collywobbles commanding we shouldn’t go at this phase of time. On the contrary, pragmatic side of the brain was pinching to remind about the already spend spondulicks of the flights-hotel, which was too much to back out.

Morning 2nd April, the day we had to leave Delhi, I woke up to notice my sis sitting before me with her red eyes prepared for dripping. I was wide awake and inquired, but took only a moment to anticipate the reason. I asked her to call Allahabad to consult what ought to be done. She called up to listen to the enchanting scold from Mom, later discovered to be forged, caused by a confusion of which of the two aged bua’s health condition was being discussed. When the confusion got revealed, we got all set to leave. Dad assured about bua being better.

Still half minded and a little hazy, we grabbed the evening connecting flight to Mumbai and became extremely cheerful and in full zeal while the journey. I think we were the only three, who were exuberant, cracking punches, teasing each other; rest of the passengers were sitting bemoaned as if they were in high dudgeon. I can only hear our voices in the plane; even the kids who were trying to accompany their boring parents wanted to sit with us. In fact, one showed up to seek our smiles distribution.

Landed Mumbai. Flight was as usual a bit late so we had to rush for the connecting flight to Goa. Good news was that we were already web-checked; just need to grab the boarding passes. Mollidi rushed towards the other distant terminal for the passes, whereas Poo and I were waiting for the baggage, which was taking time to enter. We rushed like an air towards the terminal, which was like 3-4 kms from us. We reached to catch a dropping bombshell that we were late and the boarding has been locked. It was a double whammy after the late baggage.  I saw Mollidi requesting one to let us enter. We started the same after we headed in. Three of us were busy convincing that guy to let us in as we were web-checked and there was still half an hour for the flight to take-off. His adamance made him behave so arrogantly with us.

“Sorry madam, you have to accept that you’ve missed the flight.” The flight was still there and had to stay for another 20 minutes though.

We were busy requesting, convincing, and seeking help and what not…but he was constantly up with his bafflegab and vexing gestures.

“Listen Madam! I think you want the flight to take off according to your commands.” he was still barking.

Rest of all the employees and peun badly wanted us to grab the flight; may be they too find it futile for us to miss. One of them in fact showed up quietly over the desk and whispered to suggest to use the kiosk. We ran hurriedly but poor we: it was hanged.

We didn’t give up as we knew about the flight’s approachability. The episode lasted for another ten more minutes until, to our fortune, the flight manager (seemed to be) in a white formals crossed us coincidently. We vomited the tale and informed that we’re already web-checked. He scolded the officer in marathi and within three/five minutes we were in flight, which was waiting for us. The good news was that we were successful in making the manager realize that he was a helping  angel, who should be blessed.

Landed Goa at night, 8. Mind Blowing and flawless roads peppered with gentle breeze subsiding all the lasting Mumbai humid. Implicit greenery was surrounding us. The weather wasn’t awesome but we were heartily ecstatic to reach there. We reached our sweet and tiny hotel called Afonso Guest house. After a long time, I was really delighted by the innovative look and feel and majestic ambience of the guest house, which was maximum two floors tall, weighing approx 30 suites. It contained a nice artistic terrace having a crafty blend of green-plantation and antique terracotta elephants and cock with intricate carvings, a worried buddha painting, ornamented pots, metallic age-old pan-daan juxtaposed all over the railing. Stair-steps consists of one old novel on each step along with the stair-railing depicting the highbrow resourcefulness and out-of-the-league mind of the owner. Clifton, a short, noble smart young guy, who was amazingly qualified in mannerism and ethics. For us, he was an adequate and only stuff to walk and mock on. We spend almost half an hour or more clicking over the terrace the next day before moving somewhere.

Another sunny day greeted us. Heading towards Dona-Paula jetty by bus with the least of inertia. Scorching sun and semi-windy summers could easily squeeze our elation for a while. But we couldn’t stop chattering even in that heated, loo-manufacturing bus. We put up on the beach after a nice, smooth Panjim bus-ride. Walked towards the beach which was featuring nothing as such. May be because we’ve been there before. The locality was well familiar. Peacefully gallivanting all over and reaching that white machan like topmost terrace, as usual we clicked logily, humming the late 70’s songs, subtly chuckling over our own evasive jokes related with teasing Poo.

Poo is a hydrogeologist cum doctorate cum professor because of which, she is never able to control herself venting out her excessive knowledge about the weathered rocks, red-soil, black soil, mud, vegetation, plantation,  existence of cashewnuts, blah-blah... Tales of cashewnuts somehow accompanied us throughout until we were in Mumbai and away from them. Out of all, she was adequately sportive to manage all our vacuumed, dry, weird expressions and repeatedly sardonic comments, which showed up subtly at her regular, unaffected lectures. We stayed there sluggishly for few hours, gradually planning to accomplish scuba-diving. We visit scuba-diving office which was at the same beach to find out that it was pointless to visit. Scheduling was all verbal on phone. Eventually, returned to the guest house. We slept like crocodiles. Diurnal  sun was thwarting us to step outside, even if we joined the endeavour.

Intimidated with tanning and distempering ourselves with sunscreen, we finally stepped in the Panjim market, not for shopping in particular, but  just relishing the cool, unplanned, unorganized windy evening. It was a marvellous eve, lighted and lively market with a phenomenally creative, architecturally sound, centrally located giant church with white zig-zag curly stairs. Viewing Mother Mary perceiving the picturesque sunset, we decided to visit the church the next day. We relished awesomely delicious Handi Dambu veg Biryani in Annapoorna hotel, reversed towards the hotel.

Scuba-Diving day

Next day was going to be the adventurous one. Three of us travelled towards the same beach around 7 am and engaged ourselves with the sport. I don’t know about my sisters, but for me it was truly mindful. I found my monkey-mind focussing throughout the process. We reached when we were asked to fill forms. There was a little nail-biting heebie-jeebies inside while filling the weird form, but I constantly trying to perish it as the instructors seemed to be skilled divers. A guy called Atri trained us in a school which was a pool with blue waters. He taught several mechanism and functions of all the several ingredients they had for underwater breathing. They had cylinders, eye mask, oxygen pipe etc.. While he tried to make us sea-comfortable, we asked him to click some photos from his water-proof tiny chip-sized camera. The underwater clicks, in our sensuous swimming costumes, esp. Poo’s,  were a little overmuch for us to ask him, we realized later. We had a long serious remonstrance on this.

Around noon, we headed towards the grand island by motor boat, which was 12 kms away from the beach. The boat journey was extremely complacent and calm. The serenity of the dark grey waters made me volitant; reminisced me of those traditional anchor boats, which my Bade Pa (Father’s brother) used to feature during our Ganga Ji/Sangam visits. Grand island might be acquiring less currents because of which they made it a scuba point.

Scuba-journey

Much long time after the marine-researchers and other guests like us were done with their diving, the time has come. We were robed with heavy cylinders, wing-like slip-ons, masks, oxygen-pipe and many more equipments along with the life-jacket of course. All set for marine mission. It all started how:  I sat on the edge of the boat with the back cylinder slightly out from the boat, all set for the somersault. Suddenly, I was defenestrated out and found myself laid on the sea with a man handling me. I got his wrist tightly when he was testing my training before diving in. He assured himself if I remember the language of the sea. As he tested and revised me the sign-language, he properly and took me in. It was tremendously rhapsodic. A kind of meditative sound passed through the deep, I saw numerous transparent tiny fishes which seemed to be playing with me by not getting in my hold. They all touched me light. However, the dirty waters resulted in zero visibility  but the experience was just incredible. I remained in my present for ten minutes, relishing sea water, maintaining a peaceful gesture with the fishes which seemed to be comfortable with me. There were a few honeycomb worms, sandcastle or hard sediment created by the collection of sand within years. Many ugly water insects seemed to be  embracing that sand castle. I got some starfishes, not interested in coming towards me. He took me down within the level of that rock to make me aware about these marine stuff. I almost collided hard with that dirty dark grey sand-rock, ripped with sticky worms, when I indicated him to go up, because of my light earache. He still made me wander there, as he might’ve thought I want to go up due to some fear. But the reason was earache and cliche as well. After fifteen minutes, I started feeling hackneyed inside viewing the same fishes and sea-world repeatedly. Eventually, when I indicated umpteen of times with my pointer upwards, he vacuumed the cylinder to scroll me up. I was all set. My disturbed sis seemed relieved to see me alive.

Ferocious return-voyage

After we all were done, the divers were enjoyed by diving several times while we had refreshments in which Poo had three bananas and what not; until we were all set to return around 4.oo pm. We were worried about our parents worry having no idea about our whereabouts, as there was no signal in the middle of the island since morning. The returning juncture was actually what we call terrifying. I’ve never had experienced this fear before within last 20 years. The distance of 45 minutes/12 kms passed like an era. The motorboat never lasted on one level on those 45 minutes. Because of the evening heavy currents and our opposing the water direction, the boat went fully diagonal from all sides and the water from the direction we were heading was visibly showed up like an invading wall. Thankfully, since it was the motorboat, the driver motored to retaliate and climbed on the waves ferociously every now and then the dinosauric waves captured and we find ourselves slanted on the other side of that grey wall. But we never went stable and leveled even for the fraction of seconds. We were implicitly drenched with the salty water which was piercing the eyes and tongue. Above all, Poo added the waves flavor by vomiting her bananas down. Mollidi was sitting just behind her to relish the vomit, which entered directly into her saliva, due to the directional and inhumane currents. Words like patience, faith on God, seemed fake and unfathomable. We were dying to reach the destination and fortunately we did. Precisely, scuba-diving was nothing in front of this horrifying return journey towards the beach. We all were back by 5:30 pm. The overall experience was prodigious; blowed more confidence and credence, punctured some more fear.

Evening session was the near-by big church visit, as planned.  It was all white, with the set of staircases destining to the church. 10-15 stair-steps subdued by another 10-15 steps, exhibiting the curly curves dominating the beneath ones. Mesmerizing and clear view of sunset was introduced to us right from the centre point, when we reached the top terrain. As usual, got busy with the clicks and back to the bazaar area. Had early so-so dinner in a crowded restaurant and off to the Afonso. We hurriedly grabbed the luggages, which was already out in the hotel-lady, (Clifton’s Mom) vigilance as we were already checked out.

Goa To Mumbai

We furthered towards the bus stand with the luggages to start another adventurous, super-enthralling, scintillating overnight journey … Goa to Mumbai. Grabbed the sleeping volvo, which was another novice experience for me. We booked three berths: two together and one separate on the other side. But its air-condition and space bounded us to sleep together … all in one. One can enjoy the glimpse of almost everything nature can offer in the Goa to Mumbai road journey: mountains, plateau-area, lakes, ponds, peaks, greenery, weathered rocks (Poo’s lectures) etc.. Since it was all cliffy area, the journey was fulfilled with plethora of jerks, falls and tumbles. Our chit-chat was on whole night as it was impossible to sleep on those jolts, at least till the moment it was impossible to be awake. Meanwhile, we realized that Mollidi’s office lappy also became the victim. She was worried for three minutes and chattered again. Few minutes later after we couldn’t manage to keep awake and slept , Poo became the victim and fell from the berth as if thrown down. Thus, we confiscated each other the whole night to rescue the sisters. It surely was one of the most enjoyable bus journey I can digest. We reached Mumbai as expected around 8 morning and another uncertainty but interesting issue: “where to stay”. Well, that’s another long controversial tale.

We finally dropped in at our cousin’s place, whom we met after ages; however it was a nice stay. Poo’s ex-senior, Rajesh, over-overwhelmed to welcome and hangout with us, made us watch ‘fast & furious-7’ in Imax; we went especially for domb-theatre though. It was disastrous experience it’s hard for me to digest action and violence, and it gave me the essence of ‘back-to-US’. But the frabjous breezy weather worked like a ventilator when he fed us samosa-chat, rabri and kulfi. He was overdoing everything by which we were undeniably taken aback, thus, we went to a mall to gift him something, which he accepted quite weirdly. Dinner was again at the restaurant with Bauwa di’s family, our cousin where we stayed.

Next early morning was our flight to Delhi. Before the imprints fade off, or get layered with other trip memories, the ineradicable trip convinced me to grab the moments on paper.