Ocean, 24 June 2014
I make my way towards the water. My nose, doubling up like a bloodhound’s, senses that unique smell of salt, sand and serenity. My heart slows down as though to make as little noise as possible so I can hear her rumble in anger.
Slowly my feet touch the sand. My nervous system cannot register whether all these mounds of silicon is silky or coarse. In overwhelming wave of emotion, I pull my shirt off and the wind takes it in its stride.
My walk becomes a light jog and I see the ocean in her full fledged splendour. The evening Sun is hidden behind a few clouds. The blue sky is enveloped around the horizon. For a moment, I soak up this wonderful high def image and etch it to the inner walls of my left ventricle.
The pace of my motion is three quarters now. I can feel pain under my feet, largely owned to the flatfootedness which runs in the family. The sight of people wading in the blue sends a signal of intent to my brain. “Increase pace, greet ocean with dive”.
My anaerobic capacity takes over in the shape of a sprint and i can feel my mala swinging back and forth on my chest. I hunch my back and bend to greet the water with my fingers. The silver on my left hand mirrors that image once again and I wish I was holding hands with her, witnessing how well they design nature in the land beyond.
I hop, skip and jump the first few yards and the water rises till my waist. I can feel the weight of wet cloth but it doesn’t slow me down. This is the point where I feel the need to discover the depths of the ocean but at the same time tell myself of its wrath. Respectfully and with a little prayer, I gain the trust of the sea and wander further.