Skip to main content

Water, Water Everywhere

With more than 10,000 beaches I know know why Australia is called the land down under. I am not a sea person. I barely know how to swim, I hate the creepy plants that grow in water, the spooky huge black rocks and I have immense water phobia. I even feel scared of the bath tub. So, when I see people snorkelling and scuba diving, I tend to think they have some guts. But my recent trip to Australia, my second in six years, have made me overcome some of that fear.

There is something about watching the ebb and flow of waves... the sea mystifies me as it does others. As you stand before the sea, you cannot even fathom its horizons - endless, vast, overpowering - you feel so small. The sound of the waves is haunting and reverberates as you walk along. I enjoyed the long, lazy walks along some of Victoria's pristine beaches and experienced a catharis of sorts. I did something to that effect too. Threw away some belongings as a goodbye to a past... Like good riddance to bad rubbish. But ask me to jump inside the waters, well that will take some more time before I establish an affinity of sorts. So, all my friend's hopes of skinny dipping, the way Australians jump into the high seas, shorn of any inhibition, was washed away.

Driving the weekend away on the Great Ocean Road was a breathtaking experience. Trapped between the seas on one side and the lush mountains on the other side, the 223 km long road leaves you with an overwhelming feeling. The road signs are great and amusing, they tell you exactly how to drive, warn of speed limits, bends, turns. And the roads so perfect that it is sort of disquieting for an Indian traveller who has probably seen more potholes, more broken roads, more vehicles and much noise than any other traveller on this earth.

Then you come across so many scenic sleepy fishing towns. Men waiting in patience angling baits. But the ultimate boring thing on earth for me. "Just buy the fish and eat," I felt like voicing my thought aloud. But as friend says, the pleasure is more in the catch. I guess, I guess.

My sister's neighbours in Melbourne have boats parked oustide their houses. In fact, every suburb has houses with boats in the parking lot. People here naturally love the sea so much. They grow up playing in it the way we grew up playing in the backyard. So, even in the heights of winters, I saw people come out with their surfing boats and dive into the chill. I asked my friend what pleasure they find snorkelling and scuba diving. He thinks the adventure is unparalled. As fond of as I am of 'other' adventures, I wish I could think on the same plane!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Mad Man Or A Boor

What does one do when one encounters a mad dog? Or what does one do when one encounters a man with pre-fixed notions about everything in life, most specifically of women who live alone and give him some importance? The two are equivalent to me and basic intelligence says avoid the paths they tread like plague. But I chose to tackle them head on. I almost got rabbies.

The mad man said [sic] "You sound like a very desperate person. A single and frustrated woman who is looking for anyone to leave a comment on your blog so much so that you wouldn't even spare a spammer." Spammer being, the first comment on the previous post is apparently a spam, an advert for T-shirts. Bummer! I thought it was a handsome Spaniard or Latino, so I had replied "Hi Rodrigo", hoping to take the conversation forward offline. Anyway! All this the mad man found out. I didnt. Sure, I dig comments because I love the spontaneity and intelligence of my friends. And I didn't invite the mad m…

Glam Gurumaa

Have you ever met a so called godwoman or godman in person? Well I did and I have to talk about this one. On Tuesday night, I got a call asking if I would like to come and meet Anandmurti Gurumaa. My knowledge about ‘spiritual people’ as they would like to call themselves is zero because I have never taken interest in their ilk and India being full of conmen in the garb of spiritualists you tend to look at them with suspicion. I had a friend who stayed for weeks at a house cramped with people in a shady lane in Delhi and they were all fighting and scrambling for the baba’s attention. The baba would perform pujas during the evenings, make them drink and wash with ashes and they would pour heaps of money buying the essentials. The people went to him for all reasons – to sort marital discords, business failures, illnesses, and even vengeance on enemies! It was frightful. I had gone to meet the friend but after a few hours scooted away more scared I would pick a bug from the unhygienic su…

Them Versus Us

Taking off from the Shilpa 'Shitty' issue (I love the surname and that comes from my ever so humorous and intellectual friend Latha or Lotty with love and Angel No. 1 to some :)), here are some reflections on being a north easterner in the capital of the world's largest democracy. Also, Lotty, on a serious note, says I should have a NE angle to what I write. She has a point. I have enough material there, enough to give vent to.

I begin with 'oye Chinky'. When I came to Delhi in the mid 1990s to do a professional course, I wasn't sure what the word meant. Maybe I was too busy paying heed to my new found independence and the certain sense of security -- the fact that I could go to the market even at 10 pm without the peering eyes of the army or the CRPF personnel patrolling the streets and stiffling our existence. It wasn't until my course was over and I got myself a break as a sub editor with the country's premier news agency, that I had my first hand exp…