“Are you gonna walk all the way?” the waiter asks me. “Maybe”, I reply. I have been walking for seven days now.
Three weeks ago, I came to Goa for a meeting. It could’ve been over a zoom call, but the client was paying so I didn’t argue much. I hate traveling. If it was any other city, I would have said no. But it was Goa. It had been ten years since I last visited Goa. Back in the day, I jokingly used to say that I have visited Goa enough for this life time. Not anymore. Little did I know that, it will come true and for the next ten years, I will forget about the existence of this place. Never say things out loud, milkyway hears them. Anyway, we had a good meeting and my flight back to normalcy was scheduled after two days. On my last day, around 4:30 pm, I stepped out of the hotel to saunter around the beach. It was one of those private beachs that the hotel acquires so that the guests don’t have to commingle with the other tourists in Goa. Makes you feel posh. Too bad, they can’t do anything about the water though. Or sunsets. That’s shared with everyone. I wish I could have a private sunset, which only I could see. Maybe then I will start appreciating it. I went and sat on one of those beach beds. The sun was set by then. I sat there for another hour. Thinking. Thinking.
It’s 6 pm. Everyone is saying that the winter is harsher than the last year. I believe them, even though I am wearing the same sweater that I used to wear last year. And it seems to be blocking the cold breeze just fine. I think people find some satisfaction in shared misery. If everyone is feeling cold, then at least we are not alone. We will embrace it together. That might also be the reason to why every year the winters are colder than the previous years. Or maybe it’s just global warming. I don’t know. I don’t care. I am 12. And I am out playing in the park, with the same friends, in that same sweater. The sun has set. I should go home. I don’t. I play with my last remaining friend for another hour until it’s pitch dark. Now, his mother has come to pick him up. She is scolding him for not coming home before sunset. My friend leaves with her. I will see you tomorrow, he says. I smile. It seems I was invisible to his mother. Everyone has left by now. It’s just me and the gardener. And some old uncles and aunties, who are jogging their way to gain another few years. I sit on the bench for another hour. Thinking. Thinking.
“Goa has changed in the last ten years, no?”, I ask the waiter. He says he came to Goa only three years ago. “Are you liking it?”, I ask. “No, I miss winters. It’s too hot here for me”, he replies. We chat some more. He is from a small village in Himachal and came here to make a living. So you are a beach person then, I told him. He didn’t get me. I explained to him about how some people identify themselves either as a beach person or a mountain person. But why can’t you enjoy both, he asked me. I don’t know. You can’t. Where is my food? He goes back inside. I sit there. Far far away into the ocean, a big cruise is passing by. I can sense that it’s huge just by the number of bulbs it’s showing off. I have never been on a cruise. I don’t want to. I go towards the beach to get a closer look at the cruise. It looks the same. I have kept your order on the table, the waiter tells me. He is now standing near me watching the cruise go by. Do you wanna follow it, I ask him? I always follow it until it disappears, he replies. Not like that, I tell him. I start walking along the shore. I have been walking for an hour now. I must have walked at least five kilometres. It’s absolutely dark now. The hotel is long gone. Nobody is in the sight. Except the cruise. The waiter comes back again. Your food is getting cold, he says. I don’t want it. I am following the cruise now. Following. Following.
I come back home around 8 pm. My mom scolds me. She says she was worried. Why were you sitting alone on the bench? I make some excuses. The aunty next door must have told her. She can’t keep a thing inside herself. I go to my room to study. I take out the novel from my bag and start reading. I have to finish it otherwise the library will fine me tomorrow. I read the damn thing all night. I didn’t sleep even for a minute. Fourth night in a row. Good morning. I go to the school library, return the book and pick another one. I bunk the entire day. I am just standing outside the class, reading this book. Nobody seems to care. All the teachers must be thinking someone gave me a punishment. Or maybe I am invisible to them as well. The school is over and I am walking back home. I have decided to take the longer route. I feel good. I stood the entire day today. Reading. Reading.
Five days have gone now. I am walking along the shore. There is no cruise in sight. The waiter is back. Sir, you forgot to check out, he says. I know. Why is he following me? I don’t answer. I don’t look back. I keep walking. I sometimes do go for long walks. It’s not a strange concept. Everyone should do it. Be with yourself till you start enjoying it. Thoreau once said, “I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude.” I remember this habit of mine cultivated when I was coming back home from school one day and I decided to take the longer route, and then I kept changing paths, till I found myself in a place I have never been or seen before. It was joyous. I started doing that more often. Sometimes, on holidays, I would even up the level by a notch. It’s in the chaos that you find yourself. And each time, when I would solve the puzzle that I had created for myself, the journey back home looked even sweeter. Solitude. Solitude.
“Are you gonna walk all the way?” the waiter asks me. “Maybe”, I reply. I have been walking for seven days now. What’s all the way, anyway. I sense the waiter disappearing. I am all alone now. I don’t know where I am going. The cruise that I was following is returning back to Goa. Is it the same one? I have no clue. It’s pouring now. I feel like I am invisible. I keep walking for another three days. And then I take a left. I will walk all the way some other day. For now, it’s enough. It’s time to find my way back home.
Such interesting parallel story telling, it was a crazy screenplay in my mind.
I think people find some satisfaction in shared misery - Surreal!!