Would you believe I have pretty much been on my feet and on the move for about 3 weeks straight now? Work has been beyond hectic during this time, and while I would ordinarily have looked forward to weekends to put my feet up and take a few deep breaths, we’ve entertained guests for the last two weekends, leaving me with no time for myself.
Very quickly, here’s what I’ve been up to. One weekend we had my in laws and their siblings over. You’d think a whole home full of Sindhi senior citizens, would result in a quiet weekend right? Wrong. They put us to shame with their energy and enthusiasm to roam around and be all touristy, leaving me feeling immense awe for their patience and spirit. So that weekend was spent zipping around some of the worst parts (according to me) of north Goa. Leaving me feeling rather disheartened at how quickly I am aging. I realised I cannot handle the crowded beaches, the noisy tourists and the general sense of hulla that is north Goa, anymore.
Thankfully, last weekend more than made up for it. We steered clear of Baga, and headed up to the real beaches, where beach-lovers go. One day spent at Anjuna, another at Palolem. And I realised once again why the south beats the north. Pants down. The south is where the peace and quiet is. Where we lounged, ate, drank, sat quietly, read, swam, didn’t feel the need for mindless conversation, played frisbee and had an altogether wonderful time. But yes, all that lounging and chilling by the beach didn’t really make up for the hectic work weeks before, because when one entertains one tends to stay on top of things. Or at least I try to. And that’s an entirely different feeling from a regular let your hair down and relax kind of weekend.
And since the sister had her badass new camera along, we indulged in some good old photo-taking. And I realised I miss it. I miss shooting. I miss capturing people. I miss the feeling. I realised I need to dabble some more. So I made a beginning, right then, right there. With the sister and the husband.
And I realised that I like shooting babies (okay, yes that sounds wrong, but stick with the context!). I like watching them contort their faces, throw tantrums, get their way and be so cute all at once. Yeah, like to watch. From a distance. For short spells of time. That’s the key.
And then the husband and the sister took pictures of me.
Making faces. Caught unawares.
And of my ears. Of all things.
And then of course there was the customary soul-sisters picture.
I realised Palolem was beyond beautiful And it left me desperate for more. So just to off-set the narcissism, we shot the beach too.
On the flipside of all this chaos and beach business. I’ve come to realise I’m all about the routine. I function when there is order in my life. Order, the way I like it to be. Even on days when I want to cut back, be lazy and unorganised, I like there to be some semblance of order. I don’t function well in situations that fly out of control. I don’t take to chaos well. And when my daily routine is disrupted for three weeks in a row, it begins to tell on me. Its a bit like wearing high-heels to appear tall, when I know its not my style. It leaves me irritable, cranky and with aching feet. And at the end of the day all I can ask myself is, “Why, Revati? Why the fuss?”
But on the bright-side, it makes Friday evenings like today that much better. The comfort just fits. And I slip into it, easing myself in completely, and I sigh. It feels kind of like slipping your foot into that old pair of shoes again. The ones you don’t want to get rid of. Because they have and always will feel like they was made only for you. The comfort is incomparable.
I’ve also come to realise that this need to unwind alone and chill out at home seems to be on the rise, as I grow older. The early-20-something me would have laughed in your face if I you told me I would turn into the kind of person who waits to finish work, rushes off to the market, takes comfort in stocking up for the weekend, and rushes home, just so she can slip into her shorts, put her feet up, sip a glass of wine and plan dinner. All alone.
Yup, I would have told you that you don’t know me at all, because if you did, you’d know I would choose going out to boogey on a Friday night. Anyday. I would choose friends, colleagues, anybody. So yeah, I think its an age thing. Or maybe its a marriage thing. One just find its easier to come back home and cosy up, rewind and go over the day together, make plans for the weekend and go to bed. But no, that doesn’t explain why I’m loving this solitude. All in its time, I guess. I don’t suppose I’d have enjoyed Goa as much, had I been younger and single.
And speaking of Goa, the beach OD last weekend will be hard to forget. Not just because of the awesome tan I got, but because it made me realise I don’t exploit the beach enough. Considering we live right here by the beach, it suddenly hit home how ridiculous it is not to visit the sea-side for 6-8 months at a stretch. So this weekend, the planner in me will swing into action, and chalk out a vague masterlist of beaches to see across this year. I will start small, aim low and go step by step. The smaller the targets, the more achievable, I think.
Because God knows, the husband and I both need to make ourselves unwind every now and then.
And because it would really be a shame if I had to suddenly move, and I realise there’s so much I have yet to see.
And because these things don’t happen unless you make them happen.
And because when people ask me “How’s life?” I can be smug and say “Life’s a beach.”