Orphaned coconuts on a cart
I reach the touristy parts of the beach. Crowds, selfie takers, people in water, people on sand and people praying in the sea. I move on. Past the crowds, past the photographers, past the hawkers, past hung-out neon life-jackets, past lifeguards wearing those life jackets, past the noise. I move fast, vey fast. Till I see it. Then I stop.
Orphaned coconuts on a cart.
They lay there, cozying up one next to each other, holding on against the cool sea breeze. Calmly, they lie in wait, for nothing in particular, without want or complain.
I begin to jog. Back to the regular set — joggers, walkers, runners — more footballers, a few foodstalls, some spiritual signboards stuck in sand (at one time they would have been a find, though not anymore). I jog harder till I pant, realising how unfit I am and slow down. I admire the sea. Then I hear the words, “Sir! Sir!” I turn to look.
The mixed-gender frisbee team.
I found a very young man with young unruly hair had shouted out the word “Sir,” before completing the sentence, “Please walk outside the boundaries.” Usually, I am never happy to hear that word. It means I am getting old. To add to my misery, he said it again. His respect stung me. Hmpfh! I looked at them, young boys and girls, clearly waiting for me to clear out. I resentfully, and respectfully, stepped out of their boundary lines. They forgot about me and played on.
I moved with “Sir” hanging heavy around my neck.
The crowds started to thin. I could see coarse rocks, hear the birds and taste the sand. I slowed down. There were people, each lost on her own island. I had reached a point. From here I could turn back or turn to sea. I chose the sea. I’m glad because I saw …..
An empty boat bobbing with saffron flags.
It lay low — blue raft and white tails — the flags stacked up. Some touched the water, a few waved around. “Hop aboard,” they said.
Let’s go to sea
Places never seen.
Good to go,
Go out to sea
I heard them flags. Heard them loud and clear. But not today. Not with life behind me. There is time. For I want to write. I want to witness, more beauty on the beach.
appam stew n prawns patiyo 