Sea

"The voice of the sea is seductive, never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander in abysses of solitude."

~ Kate Chopin, The Awakening

I have grown up by the sea, the Bay of Bengal to be precise. Over the years, I have seen its many moods and musings, albeit in flashes. As a child the beach would be my vast playground, never-ending and always welcoming, dotted with a treasure trove of white and brown shells. As I grew up, the sea ceased to be a playmate and unmasked its willful, mature face. A little daunted and defeated at first, I gradually learnt to unearth that characteristic loneliness that the sea alone brings with it. It's a different feel altogether, churning marvel and mystery, scratching sealed old wounds open yet pacifying your most loathsome fears - all at the same time.
Always a biased admirer of the mountains, over time, the sea somehow grew on me. On sultry summer evenings, I would secretly wish to be left alone by my garrulous cousins on a beach outing, so that I could bottle its hum and roar and bring back its salty seductiveness with me. Today I long for such a visit.

Why am I talking of the sea today? Because despite the fortnight's vacation in my home state, I could not visit Puri, the famous tourist magnet of eastern India where the devotees of Lord Jagannath throng the brackish shores to end their pilgrimage. In a ritual-like regularity, every summer I would visit my grandparents even if it was just for a day. Thus I turned to list the things that I missed for the third consecutive summer and while my aunt's spicy prawn curry topped the chart, the beach began to haunt me like never before. Like a gush of warm blood, the memories of innumerable summer vacations flooded my thoughts. And now, amid all the crazy running around for the new home, I long for its reassuring lull; to sit near the waves and immerse myself into their monotonous drone; to bury my rues and regrets into its dark, greedy expanse; and above all, to reach out to that bittersweet loneliness.

How I long for all these and much more, in some corner of my tired heart.

A Hawaiian dream I

There have been so many magical moments during our recent trip to Hawaii. Moments that still throb in our thoughts and some others a little faded from the demanding monotony of life, but very much alive. That this will be our last vacation in this country before we bundle up our memories and head homeward, perhaps added that extra something to it. Always playing at the back of my mind like an old, haunting melody, the bittersweet realization made me cling to the eight precious days with a strange greed. And then, nothing like the overwhelming vastness of the ocean to get a little contemplative, eh?!

My most favourite frame from the clutter of some twelve hundred odd pictures. One could perhaps sit on these rocky shores forever, watch the waves unfurl and soak in nature's compelling quietude. An eternal moment. Stumpy trees, stray volcanic formations jutting out of the breathtaking blue ocean like ruffled, brown birds; there just couldn't be more drama to a landscape. One of the many drives to Oahu's enchanting North Shore. Haleiwa, the little paradise for surfers and shaved ice lovers. Its tiny markets chocked with native-made handicrafts and trinkets. The dainty plumeria embracing all in its delicate perfume. The omnipresent hibiscus; yellow, orange, pink and red. Petaled messengers of tropical nostalgia. The floral hair clips, a must have for every girl in the island. A scenic drive along the eastern coast of the island. A preoccupied white pigeon greets us on the balcony after a long, exciting day. 

The Olympic Peninsula

Who says one needs a long, meticulously planned getaway to weave memories of a lifetime? Just a ferry away from home and a couple hours of drive through cozy little port towns with a distinct native American charm, and there you are - the breathtaking Olympic Peninsula. The surprises included glacial lakes, snow clad mountains, temperate rain forests and beaches with haystack rocks. All in all, a tiny world in itself, bursting with natural beauty. And what did I bring home back - forever. 

The guardian-like towering totem poles thronged the way... scores of Indian legends carved on fragrant cedar barks... a day by the side of the serene Lake Crescent... lazing under a mellow sun, amid wild flowers with Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach... sighing over buxom rhododendrons, preening in the morning light... gazing dreamily at the floating marshmallow clouds... a drive down to Forks, the Twilight town in the late afternoon... once a quaint little lumber town, now all 'dazzled by Twilight'... how things change... Rialto beach, dramatic with the scores of bleached driftwood... contemplating the ocean's endlessness through the giant hollow of a log... spectacular haystacks stand high in the green waters... the day ends with a beautiful cedar planked smoked salmon... a drive up to the majestic Olympic mountains the next morning... snow, still there in patches, like a tattered blanket on the ground... baby bear spotted on our way down, bewildered by the sudden attention of cars and cameras... an idle afternoon walk in the old growth forests of the Pacific northwest... the forest trails paved with tiny blue forget-me-not flowers... resolute brooks gurgling through mossy rocks... sailing into the sunset on the evening ferry... gulls flapping their wings on the golden waters... watching the mountains blur into distant shadows... home, hale and hearty.