A house painted blue. A balcony with an unobstructed divine view. Coconut and Chikoo (Manilkara zapota) trees in the courtyard right in front. Chikoos sneakily being gobbled up by monkeys who made a special appearance only on Sundays. Daily routines that involved working for a few hours in the mornings, leisure cooking, making gimlets, walking at the beach and sometimes into the sea, nuzzling into the rough yet soothing sand, curling up with Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin, clicking pictures of the bold colored Portuguese styled villas, making new friends at the beach, listening to Goan music at shacks that tenderly tussled with the sound of waves, getting freshly baked bread from the French Bakery (Baba Au Rhum) downstairs, working some more, cooking some more.
This is a glimpse into my life for two months in Goa (India) last year. READ ON: