Silence. Broken occasionally by the whizzing past of cars on the highway with their more-than-required horsepower under their hoods. The surf crashing against the beach, approximately half a kilometer away, was not loud enough to break the silence. The quaint, little village laid out on either side of the highway had not yet woken up to the chirping of the birds. Even the wind seemed to recognise the mood of the moment, holding itself back to the faintest of murmurs as it brushed past. Silence. Perfect.
He walked across the two-lane highway on to the rutted path that led to the beach. After leaping over the miniature valley that had been created perpendicular to the path by some strange accident of nature, he headed up towards the sea. The undulating path was quite the miniature obstacle course by itself. Here it sloped up, there it sloped down, suddenly the path was strewn with holes as if plans to erect a hundred-pillar hall had been made, and then dropped. The plans, not the pillars. And since without the pillars, it wouldn't be a hundred-pillar hall, they hadn't built the hall either, leaving an open expanse filled with two feet by two feet holes. And then there was the grass. Neat, green sheets growing in total defiance of the unresponsive sand that constituted the soil of that place. Any guy looking to court a lady who's playing hard-to-get need look no further than this grass for being the epitome of perseverance, he thought. Set on a small hillock, climbing up this green carpet eventually got him high, on grass. From here, the surf was visible, and also the hard, barren land, which had managed to thwart the progress of the grass at the top of the hillock. So, he could get high on grass, but when he came down, he had to hit hard earth.
The beach in the morning was one of the most invigorating places to be. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of the sea, the salt-laden air, the... wait, he knew that other smell. He smelt it everyday, that too in the morning. And then it struck him. Not the origin of the smell, but a dead leaf blown in from the sea, stuck him smack in the face and made him open his eyes. Which was just as well, for lined up in a neat row in front of him, were fishermen who were deeply involved in their morning duties, right on the edge of the water. It was like they were practicing the natural life, giving back to the land that sustained them. Well of course, what they were giving back was decidedly worse than what the land had given them, but atleast they were trying. Trying hard too, by the look on some of their faces which were set in grim determination. This stomach ain't big enough for the two of us.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust and decided to come back some other time. He headed towards the shops to stock up for the week. Unsurprisingly, it was all dark, and though the first shops were just opening up, no one had any lights going. The electricity in the place was much like Saurav Ganguly's batting style. It was predominantly off, and when it was on, it got shorted, and went out. As he neared the shops, the lights flickered on, making him regret for a moment his negative appraisal of Saurav's... no, the electric supply. But he needn't have bothered. Just as he neared and electricity pole, it provided a burst of electrons-going-mad kind of noise and then went off in a brilliant display of fireworks that would've sure brought a tear to Guy Fawkes' eye, in his grave. Or whatever is left of his eye, he was burnt wasn't he? Either way, the wires too went the Guy Fawkes' way, burnt right through. And then, as God said, there was light. From the sun.
He looked up at the sun. This is about the only time of the day you'll be looked upon favourably, he thought. Make hay while... you shine. He trudged back across the road with his bags from the shops. Now for some good sleep to make up for all this early morning waking-up circus...
He walked across the two-lane highway on to the rutted path that led to the beach. After leaping over the miniature valley that had been created perpendicular to the path by some strange accident of nature, he headed up towards the sea. The undulating path was quite the miniature obstacle course by itself. Here it sloped up, there it sloped down, suddenly the path was strewn with holes as if plans to erect a hundred-pillar hall had been made, and then dropped. The plans, not the pillars. And since without the pillars, it wouldn't be a hundred-pillar hall, they hadn't built the hall either, leaving an open expanse filled with two feet by two feet holes. And then there was the grass. Neat, green sheets growing in total defiance of the unresponsive sand that constituted the soil of that place. Any guy looking to court a lady who's playing hard-to-get need look no further than this grass for being the epitome of perseverance, he thought. Set on a small hillock, climbing up this green carpet eventually got him high, on grass. From here, the surf was visible, and also the hard, barren land, which had managed to thwart the progress of the grass at the top of the hillock. So, he could get high on grass, but when he came down, he had to hit hard earth.
The beach in the morning was one of the most invigorating places to be. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The smell of the sea, the salt-laden air, the... wait, he knew that other smell. He smelt it everyday, that too in the morning. And then it struck him. Not the origin of the smell, but a dead leaf blown in from the sea, stuck him smack in the face and made him open his eyes. Which was just as well, for lined up in a neat row in front of him, were fishermen who were deeply involved in their morning duties, right on the edge of the water. It was like they were practicing the natural life, giving back to the land that sustained them. Well of course, what they were giving back was decidedly worse than what the land had given them, but atleast they were trying. Trying hard too, by the look on some of their faces which were set in grim determination. This stomach ain't big enough for the two of us.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust and decided to come back some other time. He headed towards the shops to stock up for the week. Unsurprisingly, it was all dark, and though the first shops were just opening up, no one had any lights going. The electricity in the place was much like Saurav Ganguly's batting style. It was predominantly off, and when it was on, it got shorted, and went out. As he neared the shops, the lights flickered on, making him regret for a moment his negative appraisal of Saurav's... no, the electric supply. But he needn't have bothered. Just as he neared and electricity pole, it provided a burst of electrons-going-mad kind of noise and then went off in a brilliant display of fireworks that would've sure brought a tear to Guy Fawkes' eye, in his grave. Or whatever is left of his eye, he was burnt wasn't he? Either way, the wires too went the Guy Fawkes' way, burnt right through. And then, as God said, there was light. From the sun.
He looked up at the sun. This is about the only time of the day you'll be looked upon favourably, he thought. Make hay while... you shine. He trudged back across the road with his bags from the shops. Now for some good sleep to make up for all this early morning waking-up circus...
