Running Away from Mumbai

Sanjay Khandelwal
Aug 9, 2017 · 5 min read

It is 6’ 0 clock in the morning. I’m all alone on the shore listening to the symphony of the sea and feeling the pleasant wind caress my cheek. Behind me, stand the beautiful pine trees, while the immensity of the sea startle my eyes. The endless sky reminds me of life’s infinite possibilities, while the sand cuddling my skin reminds me to cherish little moments of life. Sitting in this confluence of ocean and the sky, I feel immensely small, like a conch shell in an ocean, and yet, I feel infinitely happy, like a little baby who knows nothing but his own world, a world neither defiled by selfish desires, nor dehumanized by competition, a world that moves at its own pace and that allows you to admire and appreciate every spec of beauty around you. In sea, in sky, in trees and in sun’s shine, in nature’s every progeny I have found my greatest company. She is beautiful, so is Life.

It was my first summer in Mumbai and perhaps the worst ever in my life. I woke up every morning desperately gasping for air. I felt like a prisoner in a vacuum chamber. The only place that infused life back into my soul was the sea but with everyone in this city looking for a nectar of life, even this last vestige of life was taken from me. The beaches were lined with shores of humanity. If I had to live, I had to get away from this desperate city.. very soon. And I did.

My journey to Kalbadevi, a small village on the Konkan coast did not begin as expected. I missed the bus I had paid a bomb for. I was forced to board a bus which only had a single non reclining seat left. I spent the entire night fixated in a right angle position in one corner of the bus. Fortunately, my torments of night were soon replaced by the beauty of dawn. When I woke up at 5.30 a.m I found myself on a hill staring at the infant sun.

At the crack of dawn

While I admired the beauty of sunrise, it suddenly hit me we hadn’t moved for a long time. There was an accident on the hill and we were struck for two hours. When the bus finally moved, forcing the cool breeze over my chin I felt a sense of new beginning within. The bus passed through lush green ghats and beautiful streams and the wind blew through the windows infusing life back into passengers dead from night’s sleep.

On the way

I reached ratnagiri 5 hours behind schedule. I took a bus for Kalbadevi, 16 km away. With-in minutes the bus moved from busy wide roads of the city to narrow lanes of coastal villages. The driver drove the bus as if he was riding a sports bike. I tightly held on to a metal bar as the bus zoomed past curves, rocks and tiny villages like a tornado.

The Bus barely had its skeleton intact and yet it tore the wind like a Boeing Dreamliner

I chose to visit Kalbadevi because it isn’t a tourist destination and hence not frequented by many people. Another important reason — I found a Homestay that was right on the beach and that is all I needed. I reached Samarth Homestay by afternoon. I was extremely pleased to meet Mr. Manish More, the owner of the homestay. He, like me is a resident of Mumbai and a native of Ratnagiri. While he lives in Mumbai, he visits Kalbadevi on weekends and during peak tourist season.

Kalbadevi Village

I quickly crashed on the Hammock and woke up after a long time. I was famished and ordered for a special Maharashtrian meal. The food was extraordinary. I have always loved aam ras (mango juice) but the aam ras from Ratnagiri is orgasmic. I also had Solkhadi for the first time– A drink which tastes very much like coconut flavored buttermilk. After lunch I rested on the Hammock for another siesta. I woke up in the evening. It was time to drink the nectar of life. I headed straight to the beach.

The sea belongs to me and I belong to the sea

I stood and fell on my back and then I got up only to fall again. I was like the madman trying to play a team sport all alone.

I quietly stood at the shore enjoying the breeze. There were just a couple of kids beside me on the beach. The kids jumped and rolled in water. Their joy and giggles were contagious and I couldn’t hold myself back. I jumped in and ventured deeper. In a few minutes the water was above my knees. Still Safe! I thought. I tried to imitate the actions of the kids. I randomly jumped in the water and rolled on the ground. I stood and fell on my back and then I got up only to fall again. I was like the madman trying to play a team sport all alone. After all the madness, jumping, rolling and falling when I was tired, I quietly lay on the beach, feeling absolutely empty. While the little waves tickled my feet, the more powerful once drifted me to the shore.

It was dark by the time I was back. After a pleasant shower under a tree (Yes, under a tree) I had my dinner. Having nothing else to do, I quietly lay on the hammock until midnight staring at the stars. The sea continued to roar and gush of wind continued to make their abundance felt.

The filthy rich city I lived in could fulfill all my indulgences but it is in nature’s austerity that I found my most basic needs fulfilled.

I was content. I was happy. I fell asleep dreaming of my next day.

(Read the part 2 here)

Sanjay Khandelwal

Written by

I travel, I read and I’m learning to write:-)

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