An Evening at the Beach

The young men enticing children to take horse rides - they themselves, with their taut bodies and princely posture looking regal. 

The group pf women - mothers, daughters, sisters, holding hands anticipating the waves. 

Older women sanctioned off to look after valuables and slippers; who, though some may feel sorry for, are actually happier there than at the sea.

The daughter who wanted to call her mother to the water, but was dissuaded by her brother. 

The sundal sellers moving on quickly from one customer to another.  

The myriad selfies that were taken, families, friends. 

The burkha clad family at the beach. 

So many new languages around me. 

Stylish women in sunglasses. 

The sky spread like thick, smooth velvet - greyish blue with tinges of pink like the faded mardaani on a woman's hand. 

The moon direct, staring at me, but with a softness that reminds of all the times that my mother was understanding towards me. 

The constant ding-ding of the soan papdi man - a shrill reminder of the buzz behind me. 

The group of adolescent boys who were behind me made me a little nervous. Don't know why. 

I'm constantly scared that a horse is going to go haywire and come running towards me. Any movement in my peripheral vision alerts me.

I feel like I'm sitting on a quilt. The sand is stuck on some parts of me. But, I'm not bothered because I know when I dust it off, it'll go. I feel like there's an analogy here about troubles and trials and whatnot. Maybe. 

The moonlight reflected on the waves makes me joyous. 

The sea is a vast grey expanse. 

The breeze - the cleansing breeze. I feel it wash away my cobwebs. I feel it unburden my lungs, straighten my shoulders. 

People are getting more and more comfortable with the ocean. The waves are now waist high and they're laughing. 

The policemen in their smart horses came whistling asking people to move away from the water. Within seconds of their retreat people were back in the water. 

What is it I smell? It's the ocean, I know. Is it the salt? Where did the salt come from? Does amniotic fluid have salt?

Of everyone, children seem to love the water more than life itself. 

Now almost the whole expanse is covered in moonlight. It reminds me of nights in Anilady* and Ayandur*. Ayandur mostly. Just thinking about those nights, those memories teared me up. Like how one would miss a dead parent..a good parent. Maybe those villages brought me up. Their mud roads, their down to earth people, the food smelling of firewood. And family. I was its and then it died. Now I'm living and I remember them on a night like this. 

Like that mole on my chin, there suddenly appeared a planet by the moon. 

The night sky expands over me. Tight and taut. I can't make out the details of the faces around me. But, I see that we are all one. Same calf muscles, same skeletal frame, same voice box, same pain, same grief, same joy, same beach. 

__________________________________________________________________________

While cleaning up my cupboard, I found a notepad from many years ago. I just typed out the notes as is (mostly) from notepad to blog! 

I remember taking it to the beach one evening when I was deep in the throes of exhaustion from being a new mom (might explain the melancholy). I remember walking around Madras, aimlessly, not knowing what to do or how to be without my infants on my arms - it was my first time out alone after giving birth. Life has moved forward and I can say with gratitude that I am in a place where I feel closest to God and better about life. 

*my paternal and maternal villages respectively