Video

The Tinder Encounter at LPK

After the lovely lone hours at the base of Chapora Fort, the tourist filled Baga Beach totally put me off,

Earlier on in my hotel room, a random guy I met on Tinder had asked me to come to LPK with him because he wanted to save on the stag,

On my way to the hotel rom from Baga beach, I met another guy who asked me to join him at the bar right away,

Quite chaotic and quite confusing the situation was, I decided to let the tinder guy (who shall henceforth be called P) know that I’d like to meet him first,

We met in a coffee shop and I was quite unsure so I said I’d let him know in a while and we exchanged numbers,

And I went, and boy! it was the best way to unwittingly celebrate Independence Day!

 

Where Vagator Flirts with Chapora

The Regular Tourist's View of Vagator from Chapora

The Regular Tourist’s View of Vagator from Chapora

The Dil Chahta Hai craze brought me to Chapora Fort. Curiosity made me cross the tiny hole in the wall.

A walk down the mountainous path welcomed me on the other side. Deep down, far below, the sea flirted with the foothill.

Not a soul in sight,

My heart giggled like a baby,

The place felt right,

It cradled me like a lady!

My view of Vagator and Chapora

My view of Vagator and Chapora

Rarely does anyone cross the small hole in the wall and walk all the way down to Vagator Beach. I for one, didn’t find a single human being there. Yet, my heart danced with joy!

Note – Yes, there’s a roadway to Vagator Beach. That’s where the crowd gathers. That’s the way everyone else uses.

Calangute

The Lonely Stretch of Calangute Beach

Me on Calangute Beach

Me on Calangute Beach

The tiny little soul,

Collided with the vastness of the sea.

The tiny little soul,

Could barely contain its glee!

Calangute and Me

Taking in the view at Calangute

The monsoon sea was wild. The crowd, wilder. My tiny little heart – the wildest. The curly waves and the wavy curls waded through each other for the entire stretch.

Looking far into the horizon, scuttling deep into the soul. I felt complete, I felt whole.

In the Driver's Cabin on the Highway

Mumbai to Goa – The Highway

It wasn’t a regular bus ride. Yes, the night was spent sleeping as planned but the morning had surprises of its own. As much as I would have loved to click the hills and mountains, an old phone with a useless camera travelled with me.

Bus sickness sent me to the driver’s cabin. I had only come there to inform that the AC wasn’t functioning. However, when the cool breeze of the mountains touches your face, the AC isn’t what you are looking for.

“Mind if I sit here?” I ask the driver and the 3 men in the cabin. “Yes Ma’am, most welcome!” they told me. I sat there and made them as comfortable as possible. Excited that my trip had begun on an adventurous note, I sent a selfie to my then best friend.

Don’t mind the hair

Riding in the Driver’s Cabin.

I passed by the mountains and the trees,

Luxuriously surpassing the AC breeze,

The driver’s cabin was a welcome relief,

I thought to myself in disbelief!

The road bumps, their navigation skills as well as their speed transport you to the ‘fast and the furious’ universe; albeit on Indian roads and of course, no safety gears, no fancy cars and no seat belt. If there’s an accident, you are dead meat.

In the AC’s comfort,

The driver’s discomfort,

Is often missed,

Devoid of the nuances,

Life’s little glances,

Entirely dissed.