Lying on the sand

Last Sunday I was lying on the yellow sand of a beach, in the
afternoon blazing sun, sensing froth, coral, mermaid and quill. The
strip of land around formed a kind of lagoon where kingfishers pecked
and rapped, drinking noah of the bay. A turbaned man crossed the
narrow expanse of water bare feet while whisking boys splashed water
at each other. Beyond all these there was the fisherman’s village
where sea-farer slept deep and sound on rickety cots after an entire
night of ocean-exploring while their wives went away to the city
market to sell fish. As the fierce, molten sun faced me directly like
a king with all its glory, the sea took on its golden hue and the sand
absorbed its heat. I shut my eyes and listened to the silent crashing
of the waves against the shore; the distant buzz of the cicada; the
faint drone of a helicopter flying up above the sky. I felt a dry,
cool warm air rising up from the sand like misty fumes which seeped
into my being. The weather reeked of yearning and desire; soul and
spirit and everything primitive and instinctual. Some urchins were
playing cricket at a distance. In close proximity, a middle-aged
couple consisting of a firang man and an Indian lady was lying on the
sand, soaking in the solar silence and the sea. A sense of calmness
descended in me as my ever-craving, troubled soul seemed to be in
unison with the intense longing of the mid-day sun. A hullaballoing
group shrieked in joy at a bunch of balloons in the air. The migratory
birds flew away over the sky into their nests in the distant horizon.
The hibiscus sun was slowly setting as a newly wed couple got their
photo clicked against it. The sun probably blessed them with an
eternity of love. A bunch of sea-side food sellers were trying to
allure people into their stalls. There was blaring hindi music from
radio, tape recorder. I breathed deeply and observed the day slowly
winding away, leaving its footprints on many-coloured minds.

Meghna Maiti