‘It’s already August’, I thought two mornings ago. I was back from yet another travel and felt the slight disorientation, the usual aftermath. Transcending into a deeper reflection, I knew I was close to my time in Goa. The very prospect of it made the uneasiness in my stomach stronger.
A chance I took 5 months ago was now my comfort zone. And the thought of leaving it has brought such an unknown displeasure, which occasionally makes me feel dizzy. I wasn’t supposed to be here, you know? I didn’t even like Goa all that much. That is what Goa does—it grows on you before you know it.
In the silence within the walls of Turiya Villa, I have lost myself many times. Sometimes I was found within the pages of my favourite book in the balcao and sometimes, as a moist leaf on the lawn. Either way, I have always discovered something new each day. And when the gloom in me overdid the one outside, I returned to my shell and allowed time to sun my stability.
In the company of many travellers, there has been a warmth in the words and a fleeting farewell in the greeting. There are too many interesting people in the world and I am glad they move around. It gave me the opportunity to meet them, while I took my chance at Turiya.
A little less than a local and a little more than a traveller, I did try to learn the language to understand and gain perspective of the place. Apart from making many mistakes on the dialect and laughing aloud at them, it wasn’t tough to break the ice. After all, the Goan sun is too strong for divides like that.
And those unknown turns, my forever favourite. Surrendering to the forests of Goa is therapeutic. On either side of me lies stretches of sweet nature, which I only imagined to be as saturated in postcards. The tenacity of city life has kept me alive for years now but perhaps, the sweetness of Goa has made me alive all over again. Did you know green is the warmest colour?
I’m going too fast. I need to take in and be. But over-commitment is not a choice here. There is none but to be as composed as the pace of life here. Though the smiles vary across the districts of this small state, I have found most honesty in those of Canacona. My love for Panjim doesn’t consent me but I’m torn between the artsy capital and the quiet generous Canacona.
Perhaps, ‘moving on’ is an overrated concept. Perhaps, it ought to be renamed as ‘carry forward.’ I will be here for a long time now, in memory, since moving on doesn’t come logically to me. I will hold on to every bit that I have learnt here and save some warm smiles, to remind me that compassion drives life.
Is it natural to miss moments even before they’re gone?
All images © Amrita Das