Sahyadrica

That time I looked at the sea, I did not think much of it. It was the warm feeling the usual place gives. It felt like strolling leisurely, but I quite dislike becoming comfortable with this feeling because it makes me invisible to things – they don’t present themselves like they used to. When that happens, moving away from the place, as I often do for long intervals, helps me reflect upon it, makes me think of things I didn’t realise earlier, makes me long even. It is winter, and I miss the sea, even as I long for the distant snow-capped Kangto I see once in a while through a sheet of fog. But time makes it difficult to reminisce. It becomes difficult to write, not because I cannot recollect, but as memories become more distant, emotions explode. Collecting them and weaving them in a string of thoughts is exhilarating if not overwhelming. But here I am, thinking about that moment I knew I would write about. Years later, I thought to myself then, I would look back at this cherished...

The sun hid behind the wavering leaves – light glimmering through a break in the woods, dancing upon the tumultuous sea. Two fishermen sat on ragged rocks, dangerously close to the rising sea, their fishing lines cast unto the furious waves. Any number of fishes caught would make a delightful feast. Two women gathered Hermit Crabs of just the right size to prepare dinner – their coastal village a few yards from the rocky shore, near a sandy beach opening into the Arabian Sea. We’re in Konkan – where the union of land and the sea reflects in ecology and culture since time immemorial. Two fishermen Stretching for over 500 km between Mumbai and Goa, the Konkan coast was formed when Madagascar split with India millions of years ago. But it was not until the indigenous people settled on this coast that it was called Konkan. The name is an enigma in itself, for there is no concrete theory on its etymology. This mysterious land arrested between the majestic Sahyadri and the mighty Arab...