This beautiful land in the southern coast of India was a paradise in many aspects. It was not a place to visit alone. It was a repository of memories. Not the memories that you bring along, but the memories that you create anew. Not the memories that you leave behind but the ones that you take with you.
She looked at her toe hanging from the periphery of the lighthouse near Yarada beach, sizing the horizon. She felt like a tiny speck suspended between the sea-ness beneath her and the sky-ness above her. Looking at the beach was not what lured the tourists. Neither would they capture the picturesque beauty. That was too commonplace for a place as divine as this. What appealed to them was the sense of being part of the vignette.
She had woken up early morning and walked the neckline surrounding Ramakrishna beach. Barefoot. A square of each foot was tanned adding a surprisingly exotic feel to it. It looked odd with the fuchsia pink nail paint on it. And she had adorned fuchsia pink paint deliberately. Her toes looked like tiny flowers as she tiptoed on the greenery that was all around.
The morning after he caught her consuming the sunrise with her eyes at Rushikonda beach. She felt the soft early morning rays on her body illuminating her curves. Her skin bathed in its bronze. She felt his eyes on her and she felt… beautiful. And she recalled what Dostoevsky’s dreamer must have felt as he uttered the lines, “My God, a moment of bliss. Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime?”
They breathed together the mesmerizing beauty of Kailasa Giri hill. It is among the most scenic drives in the country. Completely enthralled she watched the titanic statues of Shiva Parvati at the altitude. The splendor and silence of the hills was beyond words.
Day after they caught the early morning train to Araku valley. Spellbound she traveled the route. Every scenery was a setting in itself. She had a habit of looking backward. She sat in the direction opposite to the movement of the train looking out of the window chasing the curves they had left behind. Every curve coerced her to leave the past behind. But every contour was a picture perfect for romance. And he kept telling her that he had returned for good, returned forever.
They entered the Borra Caves ensconced within the Anantagiri Hill range of Araku Valley. They held hands as they meandered amidst the shabby rocks enshrined between stalactites and stalagmites. Local people have added their imagination and named the various formations on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. They too added their childish imagination to the figurines.
She was happy. It had started to rain. They had been lucky enough to travel around the best time, the time of transition from spring to autumn. In her life too she was undergoing the same transition.
It had been two years and she was back to the grind, back to the life she had been dreading even as she was experiencing bliss there. Today morning she chanced upon the photograph of her tanned foot, and recalled how he had jokingly called her racist for not liking the tanned square. She made up her mind to revisit Vizag. Not alone. No. She would travel with him… in her mind.
